


Memories

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Memory Loss, Possessive James Bond, Post-SPECTRE, Protective James Bond, Protective Q, SPECTRE Fix-It, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:25:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madeleine helps James realize who he really cares about and when he returns to MI6, expecting to get his number and Quartermaster back, he finds that Q is missing. It doesn't take him too long to find the young man (because James turns into a bloodhound when it comes to the person he cares), but he finds him without a single memory. So he really had no other choice but to keep up the farce of them being married and Q accepts that too easily and too happily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I...really wanted to use the 'you have amnesia, but we're totally married' trope, so why not turn it into a SPECTRE fix-it?
> 
> Story is, more or less, complete. 
> 
> Please forgive any and all mistakes and most of all, enjoy~

Madeleine was really something special. She was the island of sanity in an ocean of pure madness, her touch so soft that it could rival velvet, her patience rivalling that of a saint and her passion as hot as fire. She was so much like Vesper and yet, her total opposite and James cared deeply for her.

 

But that was it. He just _cared_ for her. He didn’t love her and it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure that one out.

 

He also missed the thrill of the field, the spark of energy that travelled through him when his fingers brushed against the gun’s trigger, the pure ecstasy that filled him when he caught a whiff of the gunpowder. He liked the peace that followed the missions, but he loved how much he had to work for that part.

 

And frankly, he missed MI6. He missed Eve and her knowing gaze, M and his no-nonsense attitude mixed with his sharp tongue that took down everyone who dared to go against him and his agents, the fidgety Tanner who secretly loved to talk about his wife and children and, surprisingly to himself but not so for the woman for which he left his world, he missed Q with his horrible jokes that rivalled his own horrible one liners – according to Madeleine, at least.

 

“Took you long enough,” she said, a little smile graving her lips. “At least you’ll bring him the car in one piece this time.”

 

James hummed, kissing her temple. “Something tells me I have a lot of grovelling to do before the Quartermaster allows me back in his good graces. Maybe a certain painting will speed things along.”

 

She snorted, hitting his chest lightly. “I highly doubt he’ll appreciate you giving him something stolen.” She picked up her magazine and started to flip through it. “But from the _many_ things you told me about him, bringing him another bottle of champagne might end with it up your arse.”

 

He started to crawl over her, placing his head on top of her magazine. “Since you seem to know so much, might you also know what I need to buy to make my sullen Quartermaster not turn me into the other agents’ walking target for the next three years?”

 

Not that he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted to get that out of the way as fast as possible and go back to the normal days when he’d poke his nose around Q’s office. The things he found in there were simply amazing and if he pestered Q enough, he was allowed to do more than hold them for five minutes.

 

“Oh no, I am not helping you with that. I helped you accept what you really need and,” she winked at him, “who you really need, but I am not helping you cheat.” She pulled her magazine out from under James’ chin and placed it on his face. “That poor man deserves to use you as a mop after all the things you did to him, you brute. And you better hurry because your flight leaves in three hours.”

 

By the time he was finally on the plane, he was both loved and hated by four shop keepers, two thousand pounds lighter and with an extra luggage in the plane's hall, but at least he was 15% sure that Q wouldn’t zap him out of the office. Or let his two cats use him as their own personal scratch pole – although he wouldn’t mind if it were Q’s nails that left marks on his body.

 

London was dreary as always and the old MI6 building was towering once again over the Thames – though security was seriously lacking because James had no problem bribing someone into lending him their boat and then using it to reach the entrance of Q’s domain. Seriously, you’d think that part of the river would be filled to the brim with all sorts of security cameras and with patrols, but nothing.

 

No alarms started to blare and he wasn’t attacked by any strange robots that were shaped like tin cans and had plungers from which they shot electricity – he found plans for those hidden in the bottom of Q’s desk and the young man dropped his favourite mug on the floor when he walked in on him reading them – when he entered Q’s branch which was odd.

 

Another thing that was odd and that tipped him that something was extremely off was that the branch was full of people, all running around, all shouting at each other, all typing madly at their computers and little iPads, looking like the end of the world was just around the corner.

 

And no one noticed him. Well, they were all aware of their surroundings because they all stepped around him and were careful not to bump into him, but no actually saw that he was there. He tried to grab one of the boffins, but they were surprisingly slippery and uncaring that they were shoving a former double oh.

 

He headed straight for Q’s office, expecting the find him all tired and in a bad mood, surrounded by a mountain of papers and empty cups. Q would take his glasses off, rub his eyes and then look again at James just to be sure that he was really there. And then he would smile for a fraction of a second before glaring and probably saying that he was out of cars to give.

 

But instead of his Quartermaster, he found R looking like she hadn’t slept in a week, hands trembling a bit as she emptied what appeared to be her third cup of coffee for that day. And that was the real sign that something bad had happened, because Q never left his office open if he was home sick or away on a mission and R hated coffee almost as much as the Quartermaster did.

 

“Civilians are not allowed in here,” she said coldly without glancing at him. “Vacate the area immediately or I will be forced to call security.”

 

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, eyes narrowed. “Where is the head boffin? Don’t tell me he actually managed to go on vacation now that I was not here.” He was really hoping that the woman would send him on a beach or in a cabin in the woods somewhere, but he had a feeling that wouldn't the case - and his stomach lurched.

 

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Q’s vacation idea was visiting all the museums or locking himself in his house so he could invent more things.” Her computer beeped and she pushed James out of her way, the message she had just received angering her so much that she actually threw the keyboard at the wall, yelling.

 

“R, what happened? Where is Q?” James insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder again, his heart beating erratically.

 

She shrugged his hands off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I am not at liberty to discuss this with a civilian even if he is a former MI6 agent.”

 

“R—”

 

"Set an appointment with M and see if he’ll tell you something,” she interrupted him, nodding her thanks to the boffin who came to replace her broken keyboard. “Bond, no one in this branch has time to fill you in on what happened while you were away.” She pulled Q’s headphones over her ears and immersed herself in the wall of text that flooded her screen, typing something every now and then.

 

He tried to talk with the others, but they all ignored him, too busy doing whatever. Eve eventually showed up, Tanner and M in tow, all three of them looking only slightly better than R. Well, maybe not Tanner. The man somehow managed to look like he was sixty and the bags under his eyes were so large and pronounced that James had to do a double take just to be sure that they weren’t bruises.

 

“I am really tired of asking this, but where is my Quartermaster?” He growled.

 

The three exchanged looks and Eve took a step forward, James really not liking the way she was looking at him. “Q has disappeared three weeks ago while on a mission in Austria.” James felt his blood turn to ice, the air harder to breathe and the world around him became sharper. “No ransom demand has been made as of now and no one attempted to hack our servers. We do not know who took him, why they took him or if he is still alive at this point.”

 

James needed a minute to calm himself down, counting back from ten just as Madeleine had taught him when he felt the need to brush his hand against the gun he no longer had. “Surely the agent who he was assisting was there and got a good look at the assailants, right?” He said slowly, gritting his teeth.

 

“Mister Bond, this is not something for civilians to concern themselves with and I am afraid that the Prime Minister has forbid us from rehiring you,” M spoke up, barely managing to keep his voice emotionless. “Because of that, you are currently trespassing on government property and if you do not leave in the next ten minutes, I will have no choice but to arrest you. Miss Moneypenny, be kind enough to show Mister Bond the way out and make sure he _understands_.”

 

Eve nodded and started to drag James out before he could find his words. “I want to say that you do not need to worry, but we are already going against what the Prime Minister ordered and namely to simply declare Q dead and move on.” She sighed, stopping by James’ boat. “So feel free to worry away; get a taste of how he felt every time you pulled a disappearing act.”

 

That was different because he was an agent trained to deal with all sorts of situations while Q was more like a precious bauble that needed to be kept safe. That is why he had went to Eve for field information on his last mission and was shocked beyond belief when he heard Q’s voice right next to him in that disgusting health bar.

 

He could feel a vein on his forehead throbbing when he thought about the PM. What an ungrateful sod; Q had done so much for the country and the world – temporarily saving it from being run by a complete mad man – and yet, instead of allocating extra resources to find the man, he was expecting everyone to simply move on as if Q was nothing more than a pawn.

 

And he also owed Q so much for everything he did for him and for the countless times he risked his job just because James had to complicate his missions. He couldn’t simply abandon him in hell. “I want to help,” he said, stopping and forcing Eve to stop with him. “Even if I am no longer an agent, Q is still my Quartermaster and I want to help bring him back home.”

 

Eve furrowed her brows, her brilliant, sneaky mind trying to come up with a plan to get around the Prime Minister without causing harm to anyone in MI6. And then her face lit up and she smirked and James wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss her – but he didn’t, because she made it clear a long time ago that she wouldn’t hold back from kicking the daylights out of him if he ever did that.

 

“While we can’t have you on as an agent again,” she started, phone already in her hand, “the Prime Minister never said that we can’t bring you as a civilian mole of sorts.” She grinned when she saw the text she had received, showing James that M was more than happy to have him collaborate with them like that. “The pay won’t—“

 

“I don’t care about the pay, Eve. I just want my Quartermaster back and the head of whoever dared to lay their hands on him.” He also wanted the head of the agent who had allowed for such a treasure to be stolen, but he figured now wouldn’t be the time to try to get the man’s – or woman’s – name out of Eve.

 

Eve patted James’ back and a boffin appeared from behind her, showing a small USB stick in his hands. “We also cannot provide you with equipment as you are a civilian and no agency is allowed to give weapons to someone who is not trained to handle firepower,” she rolled her eyes and James looked unamused, “but, woe unto us, we never learned our lesson and it is still so dreadfully easy to break into Q’s branch to take whatever one wants.” The boffin gave James a little wallet that was filled with the necessary tools. “And we still misplace USB sticks.”

 

James glanced at what he was holding, feeling that addicting surge of power that he always got whenever he accepted a mission. “Oh, that is just awful, Eve. I do hope that the stick in question did not hold missile plans like the last one?” He just had to be sure he was holding what he thought he was and not something Q was working on.

 

Humming, Eve tilted her head to the right, cupping her chin. “Well, Q actually made sure that never happened again, so this time we misplaced one that contains all the information we have on his disappearance.”

 

She left after she gave James a quick hug and welcomed him back, the former agent suddenly feeling empty and cold on the inside.

 

The following night, Q branch reported a break in and presented M with a list of things that had been stolen, making a quick note that it wasn’t troubling and that they will keep an eye on the black market in case the thief tries to sell the things he stole.

 

Two days later, James was camped out in Q’s apartment, suffering through the cats hissing and clawing at him as he followed R’s instructions to access the young genius’s computer. By the end of the week, he was feeling like he was having a nervous breakdown because the program that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore showed Q in different parts of Germany.

 

“It _has_ to be defective, R,” he growled into the phone, lighting his fifth cigarette in a row and opening his second bottle of scotch. “Because if it then I am going to track down the agent he was with and chop him up.”

 

She clicked her tongue and sighed. “ _Bond, I am sure that the Quartermaster explained to you at one point that the nanomachines stop sending out signals the moment the blood they were in coagulates. The program must be picking up samples of Q’s blood. Try to search for an area where the signal is stronger._ ”

 

“R, you wouldn’t dare send me to bring back his—“

 

“ _If it was up to me, I wouldn’t send you after Q’s dry cleaning,”_ she interrupted him. “ _But Q trusted you, so I have to trust you despite every fibre in my body telling me not to. Although I fail to understand why since you are the only agent who blew up a castle while he was on vacation.”_

 

She went on insulting him and Q’s tastes, but James tuned her out because he had just found Q.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments <3 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter as much if not even more than the previous one.

Everything hurt so much and it was so hard to see. He didn’t understand why things were so out of focus no matter how he squinted and every step he took made him feel like a thousand knives were entering his feet. It also felt like he was getting stabbed in his neck and it took him a while to realize that the scream he was hearing was actually coming from him.

 

It took him a good five minutes to remember that he was in what was called a forest and he felt complete panic when he realized that he didn’t remember how he got there, what he was doing there or even who he was. He also didn’t understand why he only had a pair of ripped pants on and why he had burns on his torso and no matter how hard he tugged at his hair or hit himself over the head, the memories refused to come to him.

 

All that he knew was that he had to get away. He had to keep on running to the horizon and if he did the mistake of turning to look behind him, he would forget how to breathe and would feel the need to curl up in a little, shivering ball and cover his face.

 

So he kept on walking until the soles of his feet started to bleed and when he tripped and he felt like he couldn’t walk anymore, he started to crawl. The sun – what a beautiful name for the bright, round thing in the sky that made his eyes water and sting if he stared at it for too long – was starting to set when he finally crawled out of the forest and onto something that his brain named a highway.

 

Something screeched to his right and when he turned around, he saw an older couple rush out of the car, faces petrified in fear. He couldn’t understand what they were asking him, or rather he understood them, knew that they were talking in a language that wasn’t his own, but the reply refused to come.

 

“Help me,” he croaked, amazed at how his own voice sounded. “Please, help me,” he said again, this time louder and grabbed the man’s leg and then the pain blinded him and he ended up in a dark world where no actual thought entered his mind.

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he was warm and numb, a strange beeping sound filling his ears. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the whiteness of the room, but everything was still foggy and this time, when he tried to rub his eyes, he saw all sorts of tubes sticking out from them.

 

A surge of panic travelled through his body and the beeps became more erratic and louder, his mind screaming at him over and over again that he was back there and that person had found him and that, if he didn’t get up and run now, he would never see his home again.

 

Someone gently touched his good arm and he jumped out of his skin, screaming and covering his face. He tried to ask to be left alone, but nothing came out of his mouth and he felt like someone had shoved sandpaper down his throat – and maybe they did, because that person loved seeing him in pain.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a deep voice said from his left and his heart instantly calmed down, a feeling of safeness washing over him. “The nurse and doctors are on their way, but until then, drink a bit of water.”

 

He finally moved his arms away and looked at the man who was talking to him, brows furrowing at what he knew to be a glass with water placed against his lips. He parted them and drank slowly – because the man was telling him to do so –mesmerized by the intensity of the blue eyes that were tired and filled with worry.

 

Clearly, this wasn’t the person he was afraid of. This blond man, unfocused as he was, didn’t wish any harm to befall him. But who was this man? He looked familiar and he felt like he knew him, but no name came to mind.

 

“Who are you?” He wheezed out and even half blind, he saw hurt flash in those beautiful blue eyes. “Who am I?”

 

His incoming panic attack was stopped by two women entering the room. The unknown man started to talk fast with them in that language that wasn’t his – but that he understood – panic and anger clear in his voice. He placed one of his fingers on top of his hand and that was really the only thing that kept him from bolting out of the bed, reassured by the touch of someone whose simple presence assured him that he wouldn’t feel pain anymore.

 

One of the women asked him what year it was and, although Q understood the concept of time and how it passed, for the likes of him, he couldn’t think of a number. Was the year made out of three of four digits? Or maybe five digits? No, five sounded too much and three not enough so something with four.

 

“1000?” He said uneasily, starting to shake when he saw the way the woman looked at him. “I meant to say 1500?” He looked at the man for confirmations, the machines starting to beep louder as his heart beat increased. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” He covered his head and a sob escaped his lips, the man starting to gently rub his back.

 

“Your husband has retrograde amnesia,” said the woman in a thick accent and he was surprised to hear that he was married.

 

He looked at his fingers without really knowing why and the man - his husband; the blond man with blue eyes that made his stomach feel funny was his husband and that made him happy - covered them. “You lost yours in the accident you had, love.” He leaned closer still and planted a small kiss on his temple, helping him lean back down.

 

“Oh God, I can’t remember anything. Not your name, not mine, and not even the day we got married on.” He hid his face in the man’s chest and took a deep breath, his head clearing a bit when he smelled his familiar aftershave and felt the well-toned chest under the creased suit. How long had he been sitting by his side, waiting for him to wake up?

 

“I’ll tell you what you want to know and together we’ll remember everything, okay? We’re in 2015and my name is Bond, James Bond,” he said as he pulled out a little box and took out a golden ring. “And your name is Daniel Quinn Bond, but I lovingly call you Q.” He slipped the ring on his finger and kissed his hand, Q starting to smile like an idiot despite the strange feeling the ring gave him as if he had passed out with a different one on his finger. “And we got married ten months and three weeks ago in London, after dating for more than three years.”

 

James’ name sounded very familiar –well, they were married, so it was only natural – and perfect, but his felt… odd. The ‘Q’ part was more than okay in his mind, but the rest seemed out of place and made up. Maybe his husband called him ‘Q’ more often than not and that was why?

 

“Do you remember what you look like?” James asked and Q slowly shook his head. “Well, until the nurse brings you a mirror, I’ll give you a description.” Q nodded again, not trusting his voice and James smiled again, running his hand through his hair. “You have brown hair that’s usually all over the place and it looks like it’s an entity on its own.”

 

“Don’t I comb it?”

 

James chuckled. “You do, but it still does whatever it wants and that frustrates you. When that happens, you puff your lips and roll your eyes if I say you’re pouting.” He moved to cup Q’s face and brought his face closer, rubbing his lower lips with his thumb. “You have the most beautiful green eyes that I have ever seen, but are frustrated with them because you need glasses.”

 

“Is there anything about myself that I like?” Q asked, stifling a yawn. “Why am I sleepy? I don’t want to go to sleep just in case I wake up in that forest again.”

 

“You love your brain and I love it as well. Because you are a brilliant man who bends technology to his will.” He gave him the mirror and Q stared at himself, narrowing his eyes and sticking out his tongue just to be sure that it was really him in there. “And you can go to sleep easily because you’ll wake up here, with me.”

 

Q continued to stare at himself for a few more minutes, glancing at James every now and then which made the man smile. And Q blushed, because he was really trying to be subtle about how amazed he was by the whole thing.

 

“You are breathtaking, you know. A scatterbrain when it comes to your own health, but carrying when it comes to others. You are witty and intelligent and full of love,” James said softly and rested his head against Q’s. “There isn’t a day when I don’t ask myself how I got so lucky to have you whisper in my ear and guide me through my life, patiently waiting for me to realize when I’ve made a mistake and not rubbing my nose in it.”

 

He moved to kiss Q but he leaned away, hand over his lips. James looked sad, but still forced himself to smile, instead kissing his temple. Q made to apologize, but James shook his head and made sure he was properly tucked in the bed.

 

“We’ll kiss when you feel confident, Q. Don’t force yourself; everything will come to you in due time.” James whispered in his ear and then rested his chin on the bed’s metal sidebar.

 

One of the two women approached James and told him about how his time was up and Q moved fast and grabbed his arm, eyes wide. His husband was too young to die, he thought. His time couldn’t be up. He couldn’t let him alone in a strange world where he didn’t understand most things.

 

“She means visiting hours are over, Q,” James whispered, kissing his arm. “But I am sure that, since this is a private hospital and we are in a private room, we can reach an agreement,” he added, looking at the woman. “Money is not a problem, in case anyone was worried about that.”

 

The woman narrowed her eyes, but thirty minutes later, James was sitting in a comfier looking chair, holding Q’s hand and telling him how much of a klutz he was when it came to everything he created – “Because you are an inventor as well as a computer genius and you love making all sorts of things” – as Q slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

While Q recovered – incredibly fast, according to the doctor – James was more than happy to talk with him about his past and who he was. He told him that he had two adoptive sisters who loved him very much and who were incredibly protective of him. Eve, who was the eldest one, had even threatened James to flay him if he made Q cry and Rachel promised to ruin him financially – she followed in Q’s footsteps career wise/

 

“They tried to be here, but their jobs made it impossible for them. You see, they work for the government,” James explained. “They also have incredibly bad timing because they keep calling when you are asleep. But since you are awake now, you can give them a call if you’d like.”

 

Q thought for a moment and then slowly shook his head. It was hard enough for James to deal with him not remembering anything. He really didn’t want to hear the sadness in his sisters’ voices.

 

James also told him of his many friends and co-workers who all loved him very deeply – not as deeply as him, thought; James loved him the most and he was willing to do anything to show him that – and the countless stuffed animals that were brought in his room on a daily basis proved that.

 

“Do you think they would mind if I give some of them away?” Q asked, playing with a Paddington bear that James had bought him. He loved that one the most, being that it was the first gift from James he had a memory of. “I do not know how our apartment looks like, but something tells me that we do not have space for all of them.”

 

James moved the large bunny Q was leaning on, taking his place and starting to rub his back. “I didn’t think it would be possible for them to idolize you more than they already did, but now I can easily picture them starting a religion in your name.”

 

Q also found out that he was the proud father of two cats named Turing and James. “You claim to have named the second cat way before you met me, but he’s only two years old.” He poked Q’s side.

 

He asked to see pictures of the cats and of them, but James explained that his phone had fallen in the bathtub when he heard about his accident and that his new one was empty. “But I promise I will remedy that as fast as possible.”

 

There were things that James refused to tell him about, such as what his favourite foods and drinks were. But one thing was clear to Q when it came to food and that was that he hated what they were serving him here, even though it was a private hospital.

 

“It tastes like expired glue. I don’t know how I know, but I know,” he said, glaring at the grey blob that was supposed to be rice. “Are we sure it is okay to serve this to patients? Are they trying to make everyone extend their stay here?”

 

James chuckled, bringing the fork close to Q’s lips. “In their defence, they do not add salt or any sort of seasoning in case some of the patients are not allowed to ingest those ingredients.” Q turned his face away a bit and James moved closer to him. “I promise we’ll go to the best restaurants in town and then in the world and I will feed you food that’s fit for kings and gods.”

 

Q sighed and opened his mouth, frowning as he swallowed the food. “I am sure this is what cardboard tastes like,” he grumbled. “Or maybe cardboard tastes better. At least bring me something to drink to drown this down.”

 

James cringed, remembering when Q tasted coffee and spat the disgusting liquid all over him, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his tongue. “I promise to go make you tea after you finish everything in this plate.”

 

He became giddy when he heard that and took the fork away from James so he could finish the so called food faster. “Do I like tea?” He asked with a full mouth, narrowly avoiding chocking.

 

Wiping his face, James smiled. “You practically live on it if it is done just right.”

 

And James knew how to do it because after his first sip, he moaned and thought he tasted what the gods drank. His tongue instantly hurt because he hadn’t waited for the heavenly smelling brew to cool down and James took it away from him so he could blow in it and bringing it below lava-temperature, but Q was in love. He could see himself live off of nothing but that until something that needed to be chewed was shoved in his mouth.

 

“For every cup of tea you make me, I will give you anything you ask of my,” Q promise and James chuckled, wrapping himself around him.

 

“You’re already giving me everything I want by simply loving me, darling,” he whispered, placing a kiss on his neck. “So I’ll be satisfied with your honest smile when you drink it.”

 

There was a time in the day that Q hated with all of his being and namely when the nurse and doctor came to take samples of his blood. The first time he saw the woman pull out a syringe, his instincts took over and he ran right out of the bed, ignoring the pain that shot through his legs. All he knew in that second was that needles were bad and that he had to get away.

 

He even managed to somehow incapacitate two large orderlies in his mad run. James found him ten minutes later in a cleaning closet, hyperventilating and looking for something to protect himself with.

 

“Love, no one is going to harm you,” James said, carefully reaching out to Q. “And if they try, I will rip out their arms and beat them do death with it.” He sounded dead serious, everyone that was behind him taking a step back, the security guards brushing their fingers against the tiny cans of spray they had on their belts.

 

“I knew I had needles in my arms and that didn’t bother me, but the second I saw one...” Q trailed off, covering the side of his neck that was bandaged. “I don’t think I had this problem before the accident.”

 

James frowned, but said nothing as he carried him back to his room. He held his hand as the nurse carefully took a sample of his blood and then kissed the band aid. He didn’t force Q to talk about his fear and even chased away the psychiatrist that was sent in to talk to him when he kept insisting on discussing his reaction, promising to rip out his vocal cords if he didn’t stop making Q feel uncomfortable.

 

The nurse and the doctor weren’t happy. “If you threaten any of my staff again, I will have you arrested,” the woman promised and for some strange reason, Q was expecting her to actually tug on his ears.

 

“My husband—“

 

“Understands that this has to be done and that you are not trying to hurt me,” Q interrupted James, squeezing his hand. “I will try to control my reactions as will my James.”

 

The other times that followed, Q tensed and James took to growling whenever he saw someone walk in with a syringe, abandoning whatever he was showing Q – usually magazines, books and movie titles Q thought he liked at one point despite the total blank they drew – or telling him – how they ate together, how they teased each other, how Q silently put up with his lame pickup lines until he didn’t – to breathe down the woman’s neck.

 

“Why do you keep taking samples from him?” James asked after a week, pushing the woman’s hand away from Q’s arm. “He’s not a donor and if you keep doing this, he’ll be so pale that I’ll lose him in the sheets.”

 

The nurse huffed, looking insulting. “Mister Bond, we never take more than a syringe full of your husband’s blood and if we were taking too much, we would immediately give him a blood transfusion.” She took Q’s chart from the foot of the bed and showed it to James. “He has gained five kilograms, brought the calcium and magnesium out of the danger zone and he has more colour in his cheeks than in the picture in his ID.”

 

James rolled his eyes and sat next to Q on the bed, pulling him against his chest. “I still don’t like all the blood test you are running.” He leaned to give Q a kiss, but Q turned his head away moments before their lips brushed so James ended up kissing his cheek. “Is there anything wrong?”

 

A flash of fear travelled through Q and he struggled to remember what disease people feared and that was connected with blood. He remembered that there was no cure for it – yet, a voice whispered in his head – and that it was deadly and transmissible. If he had it and if he hadn’t been careful, then James could have it as well.

 

“That test came back negative, Mister Bond, so no need to worry.” She looked more at Q as she said that, smiling reassuringly. “But we did find something strange in his bloodstream. They are not organic and—“

 

Recognition flashed on James’ face. “I assure you that those are nothing to worry about.” He pulled out a little card from his wallet and gave it to the woman, taking the syringe away from her. “Call my company and they will explain everything.”

 

“Sir, we can’t just—“

 

“You can and you will.” He sounded very serious and Q caught sight of a storm behind those blue eyes he loved to stare at so much. “If that was the only reason why you were still keeping my husband in here, I would appreciate it if you called now so I can move the both of us to a better place.”

 

The woman looked like she wanted to argue, but sighed and did as she was told. James distracted Q from his questions by rearranging his new glasses and pulling out a tablet. “I asked your adoptive older sisters,” he coughed when he said that, amused by a joke that Q couldn’t remember, “to rummage through our computers and send me the best pictures they could find of us.”

 

The first picture was of him dressed in a loose suit, tie done wrong, messy hair, a milk moustache and looking like he was about to be executed. “Your first day on the job,” James explained. “You had just found out that you were going to meet with a co-worker who is a well-known trouble maker. You looked like a kitten who heard a dog bark for the first time, so the picture was taken.”

 

“Do we work together?” Q muttered, narrowing his eyes. He remembered the stress he felt that day and that he had tried on three suits before deciding on one – that seemed like something he’d do if he was supposed to meet James. Plus, he got a feeling that James was a trouble maker by nature.

 

“Yes, we do and yes, you were meeting with me,” James admitted, chuckling. “We met in a museum and you gave me a verbal beating that’s still stuck in my mind.” He brushed the hair out of Q’s eyes.

 

“Spots,” Q said suddenly, startling James. “We were looking at a ship and you said I had spots,” he continued, offended. “I most definitely do not have spots now and I am sure I didn’t have them back then,” he grumbled, frowning.

 

The joy in James’ eyes couldn’t be described. “In my defence you started it first by comparing me to that ancient ship in the painting.” He took Q’s hands in his and brushed his lips against his knuckles. “We poked at each other’s ages for a few moments before we both agreed that age is no guarantee of efficiency. And if you had spots, I would have kissed each and every one of them until they disappeared.”

 

He remembered saying that, the quick smiles they exchanged afterwards, the sudden birth of respect regarding each other, but nothing else. Not where they were, not what they were doing there, nothing. And that irked Q and it must have shown on his face because James pulled him in his arms, hugging tightly.

 

“James, hit me over the head with a bedpan,” Q pleaded. “Maybe it will fix my defective brain and you won’t have to suffer through me not remembering us.”

 

“I would never hurt you knowingly, Q.” This was a very strange thing to say and with so much conviction behind the words. Had James done something in the past that hurt him? Was that why he had been on his own in Germany? “And your wonderful brain isn’t defective, nor am I suffering through anything. For better or for worse, love, and we can make so many new memories together that this is a second honeymoon, second first time date, second first time everything.”

 

Something came over Q and he tugged James closer, bringing their lips together. Their noses bumped together and he got embarrassed, but James kept him in place, tilted his head a bit to the right and kissed him.

 

It was a strange sensation, one that his mind insisted that he had never felt before despite his amnesia. The spicy taste, thought pleasant and addictive was new, as were the man’s warmth and smell. But God, did he knew what to do with his tongue! Q was practically putty in his arms and his mind was humming in pleasure.

 

Someone was clearing their throat rather insistently behind them and although was dead set on ignoring them, arms tightly wrapped around his husband’s neck, they had no choice but to break apart when that someone who couldn’t take a hint tapped Q’s shoulder. Or rather, James ripped himself free to snarl at that person, Q held protectively against his chest.

 

The doctor looked like she was a step away from tranquilizing James. “Mister Bond, we can start the discharge process right away, if you wish.”

 

“Good, good. I’ll come sign the papers in a few minutes.” He started to lean towards Q, lips puckered, but Q pushed the tablet up to stop him. He wasn’t exactly blushing, but he was embarrassed at being caught like that. “Or I can come sign them now while my husband continues to look at the pictures.”

 

He saw pictures of his adorable cats, of him and James at a Christmas party – he looked indisposed in one picture, but smiling in the one where James was leaning on him – of a giant birthday cake that was covered in what seemed to be chocolate ‘q’ letters. Those made him smile and tugged at that part of his mind that was faulty, but those of him and James told him absolutely nothing.

 

“They’re wrong,” he mumbled, eyes narrowed, face almost glued to the tablet. It didn’t make sense because the light that fell on them was the same, their shadows appeared to be in order and his heart told him that James really wouldn’t do anything to cause him harm. And still, the pictures were wrong.

 

He said nothing to James and faked a smile when he felt the man looking at him. All of his uncertainties and his doubts might just be figments of his imagination and yet, at the same time, they might be real. James might not be who he said he was, despite Q wishing that everything he was presented with was real.

 

He did remember small, random things, with James in them. And even though he did not understand why he was taking objects from him and berating him for touching them, there was no doubting in the way his heart raced when they were that close. His need to lean closer to the man and bring their lips together was real, just as James’ teasing smirk that seemed to dare him to do just that, no matter who was looking at them or where they were.

 

On some days, his fingers twitched and James always took his hands in his and rubbed small circles on his knuckles with his thumbs. It helped a bit, but Q still felt like the only thing that would really stop the twitching would be if he had a keyboard in front of him. The third time it happened, he told James what he thought and the man instantly pulled out his laptop from under the bed and let Q play with it.

 

He was playing around in word, but the things he wrote made no sense. They weren’t fragments of a story or a poem, but long lines that seemed like they belonged in a program somewhere. He showed them to James and his husband saved the file, ruffling his hair.

 

“You do codding for our company every now and then.” Q felt like he was doing more than that, but James lips on his neck distracted him completely.

 

On another day, he woke up with the sudden urge to see something spy related and, by some luck, there was just that type of movie playing at a cinema. He didn’t have to ask James more than once to go see it and within the hour, they were sitting in a packed movie theatre.

 

James was obviously not in the mood to watch it, nuzzling Q’s neck and trying to get the popcorn out of his lap so he could make out with him, but Q was too busy scrutinizing every bit the so-called techie was doing.

 

“You can’t enter a computer like that,” he grumbled, shoving some popcorn in James’ mouth to distract him. “He’d be caught instantly. And there is no viable way to make a car turning into an airplane _and_ a submarine; at least not if the car is that size.” He didn’t know how he knew that, but he knew he was right. He was even drawing up some blueprints in his mind, although if he blinked, he’d have to start all over again.

 

Someone turned to shush him the third time he whispered that something was completely wrong and James just hit the back of the chair and glared. “Love, it’s just a simple movie,” he whispered sweetly, starting to feed Q popcorn. “They never get things right. I mean just look at the one who is supposed to be the spy. In his desperate attempt to blend in, he stands out like a sore thumb.”

 

He didn’t know how James knew that, but it somehow felt right. He kept his mouth shut throughout what was left of the movie, just huffing and shaking his head while James did his best to keep from laughing out loud at all the faces he was pulling.

 

They walked out holding hands, Q declaring that he never wanted to see this insult of a movie for as long as he lived and James promising that they would go see something that he was sure to enjoy in the near future.

 

But, despite how horrible campy the movie was, everything he had seen it in seemed _familiar_ , like he had been on the end of a line, whispering orders in someone’s ear. His head instantly start to hurt and let go of those thoughts, allowing James to effortlessly pull him through the thick crowds back to the safety of their apartment.

 

Driven by a similar sense of familiarity, the second his eyes landed on a model car, there was nothing in the world that could stop him from buying it. Or from trying to build it on his own, despite James having to go back out and buying him another set when Q accidentally dropped the half-finished model on the ground and broke some pieces of it.

 

“You know, I am good at reading instructions,” James whispered, sneaking his hands down Q’s back. “And on gluing and cutting things, so feel free to order me to help you. You are the only person who I don’t mind using me for whatever nefarious plans you have.”

 

Q chuckled and moved his head to give James better access to his neck. “I think I worked on a car like this on my own in the past. If I finish it, despite this one being infinitely smaller than the one I have in my mind, I might _remember_.”

 

James pulled away and Q turned to glance at him, surprised. “You are working on the model of a car I won at a poker game and which I totalled not even a year after that.” He saw how panicked Q looked and he quickly assured him that he got out of the accident without a scratch. “I found out you were working on fixing it much later, when it was practically four tires away from being complete.”

 

His head hurt for a second and he focused on the fractured picture in his mind, brushing his fingers against the model. “You asked me to give it to you and—“

 

James turned him around then, frowning. “That doesn’t matter now and I promise that I brought it back in one piece.” He pulled Q to his chest, resting his chin on top of his head. “Let me help you with the model now, okay?”

 

He felt so good, pressed up against James and his warmth and smelled worked like a magic spell that made Q agree to anything. When they hugged at night, Q felt like he was in the safest place on earth, one that he never wanted to leave. The man’s heartbeat in his ear helped him go to sleep so easily and the care and worry he showed him were genuine.

 

And yet, why were there times when he turned his head away when James wanted to give him a proper kiss? Why did he yelp and cover himself when James entered the bathroom? They were married and married couples had seen each other naked.

 

James also didn’t push for them to have any sort of sexual relationship. He rubbed Q’s back, he kissed his neck, he threw his leg over his and spooned him, but he never ever rubbed against him or tried to coax him out of his clothes. And this confused Q beyond belief.

 

On one hand, he was very thankful for that because he didn’t feel like he was ready to make love with his husband. On the other hand, he felt like something was wrong with him and with his body. He had suffered some burns, nothing too major in his doctor’s own words, but he was still left with some obvious scares on his chest and his back. Maybe James found him disgusting now?

 

And nothing brought more light to that insecurity than when they visited museums that showcased Italian paintings. Every time Q glanced at James, the man was lost staring at one depicting either a beautiful half-naked man or woman with not a single scratch on their bodies that wasn’t done by time or war.

 

But it proved that James was still paying attention to him because the second he let out a suffering sigh, his eyes filled with worry and led him to a bench. “Is it your feet? Do they hurt you? Maybe we should have stopped after the third museum.”

 

“James, do you find me repulsive?”

 

“I find you anything but that, love.” He put the bottle of water down and cupped Q’s face. “I love every bit of you and nothing would bring me greater joy than to show you that by worshiping you twenty-four seven. And I will, as soon as you stop flinching when my hand goes lower than your back or tense up whenever I slip in our bed.” He kissed the top of his head and when Q tugged at his tie, he leaned closer and gave him an actual kiss.

 

James’ words didn’t completely chase away Q’s insecurities, but it helped greatly. They enjoyed the rest of their day together and that night, James paying extra attention to him and practically gluing himself to him, pulling him in for kisses whenever someone stared too much at him to show that he was taken. And later that night, while getting ready for bed, James showed him his scars and let Q trace and kiss each and every one of them.

 

“I was a commander in the navy and I attracted many a bullet,” he said before Q could ask, waiting for him to find his spot before pulling the covers over them. “Seeing the marks they left behind that will never completely disappear, I have to ask: do you find me repulsive?”

 

Now Q understood what he was trying to do and loved him even more for that. And he knew without a doubt that it was love because earlier he had _liked_ a statue in the museum and found one of their guides to be _cute_ , but when he looked at James, his hear swelled with a burning feeling that was pleasant and his stomach did strange things.

 

“I don’t know if I ever told you this, but you are a wonderful husband who I wouldn’t change for anything in the world.” The second he said that, he pictured an apartment complex that could be spotted from the moon and snorted when his brain decided to label it as James’ ego. “Did I just make your ego grow?” He asked, planting a kiss on his neck and yelping when James rolled them over, trapping him.

 

“You have accused me of having an enormous ego in the past and I never corrected you.” He covered Q’s face in kisses while also tickling him. “And that was one of the reasons why you rarely did more than verbally pat my head, so feel free to continue calling me your wonderful husband.” He suddenly turned serious and stared Q right in the eyes. “Just promise me you’ll keep that in mind, okay? And that you would never change me.”

 

Confused and a little scared, Q nodded slowly, starting to caress James’ back when he man rested his head on his chest. What was he missing that had James act so strange? Especially when Q proclaimed his love and adoration of him and called him his husband? The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that one of them had walked out on their marriage.

 

James started to snore lightly and Q carefully wiggled out from under him, sneaking to the bathroom. He needed a bit of time away from James’ intoxicating... everything to clear his thoughts and maybe try to force a memory.

 

He should start with the first thing that didn’t feel right about himself and namely, the ring. He wasn’t used to having one around his finger since James had to put it back on after every shower or bath he took and he didn’t have a tanning line. And there should have been one, he was sure of it. That meant that he must have taken it off a long time ago.

 

“Yet, I had a ring on when I was running through the forest,” he muttered, holding his hand up towards the light bulb.

 

It hadn’t been made out of gold, it had a strange drawing on it and it was also wider. Too big for his finger, since he remembered having to constantly push it back down before he got out of that completely white room. No, the room had some colour to it. “Little dots of red that were my blood,” Q said out loud, his eyes snapping open, backing into the sink and accidentally knowing off everything on it.

 

A ring rolled out from a little box and he stared at it, frozen. This is what he had on his finger in the forest. He crouched down and poked it, shivering. James had given it – or one similar to it – at a bar, but not in a show of affection or anything sappy like that. And Q had been annoyed and stressed – he had flown there and he hated planes – and wanted nothing more than to smack James and drag him back to London.

 

“Q? Love, is everything okay in there?” James asked from behind the door, knocking on it so hard that splinters were jumping out. “Q, love? Are you in any sort of danger?”

 

Q shook his head, pocketed the ring and pulled open the door just as James was charging at it, feeling the air get knocked out of him. He saw a few white spots in front of his eyes and James wrapped his arms around him and flipped them over so he crashed into the wall and not Q.

 

“James, are you okay?” Q asked when they were done falling and his eyesight returned to normal, pushing himself up on James’ chest, making him groan. “Sorry; I hope I didn’t break your ribs.”

 

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” James wheezed out. “You may have put on five to seven kilos on, but you are still my harmless stick. Well, as long as you do not have a computer or laptop in front of you because when you do...” he trailed off and accepted Q’s help, leaning on him for a moment.

 

Q decided to use that moment to check James’ ring finger, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips, his heart dropping in his stomach when he saw that he didn’t have a tan line. So both of them hadn’t been wearing their rings in a long time and James was lying to him about being in a happy marriage.

 

He was being attentive and he was trying his best. If he wanted a fresh start, wouldn’t it have been better if he just came clean? Explain that they had separated, apologize for whatever – or whoever, a voice whispered in Q’s mind – he had done and then try to fix things?

 

Things would have been fixed, Q was sure. He did fall for him the second he saw him, even if he didn’t have his glasses on.

 

James poked his nose, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You are spacing out a lot today, love and you look sad. Sadder than at the museum. Did you have a bad dream?”

 

“Yes, that’s what it was,” Q said after a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Just a really horrible dream in which I was being lied to by someone I cared for.” He walked away before James could say anything, curling up on his side of the bed and pulling the covers over his head.

 

He felt James glue himself against his back, arms and legs thrown over him. “I wish you could tell me what to do to fix things, like you always do.” He pulled the covers back a bit so he could nuzzle his neck. “You’re not really going to be surprised when I tell you that you are my superior at work.”

 

“Do you aggravate me when we work together?” Q mumbled, nibbling on his finger.

 

James hummed, sneaking one of his legs under the covers. “Constantly. You even blamed me for your first white hair.”

 

Q remembered what James was talking about. He was in the middle of a dark room that filled to the brim all sorts of boxes with strange labels on them and he was tapping his foot, hands on his hips. James was sitting right behind him, his hot breath washing down’s Q’s neck while he was playing with his hands in his hair, tugging gently at some of his strands. And he was upset because of a…

 

“Car. You did something to a car and you scared me.” He sat up and turned to glare at him, crossing his hands over his chest. “So that last car I fixed for you wasn’t the first one you destroyed and you constantly scare me like that.”

 

James had the decency to look guilty and Q felt like he needed to mark this day down in a calendar or something. “I forget that people care for me, so I throw myself headfirst into dangerous situations.”

 

Q raised an eyebrow. That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. How could he forget something like that? “We’re married; I think it is safe to assume that you have someone that loves you, you twat.” He was so frustrated that he pushed his thumb against the left side of the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the incoming headache. “Don’t I tell you that I love you? Don’t I show you how much I do?”

 

He had the clear distinction that he gave James all sort of _things_ – small things like pens, lighters, wallets, belts, and ties, but also big things such as cars and laptops for which he did not know how he paid for – which he had tinkered on and put a part of his in.

 

James looked so surprised to hear those words and quickly hid his face in his neck, arms around his chest, fully slipping in under the covers next to Q. “I’ve been told that I don’t deserve you and I really don’t. You will remember on your own how incredibly stupid I am. But I am _your_ incredible stupid man.”

 

They both fell silent and, after a while, the room was filled with James’ even breathing as he had fallen asleep. But sleep avoided Q for a long time and he twisted and turned in the bed, huffing and sighing in frustration, thanking God for the nth time that James was a heavy sleeper.

 

What was he missing? What was waiting for him just behind that thin, black veil in his mind and why did he feel like his heart would break – and not for the first time, mind you – when he would finally managed to pull it away? And why was he constantly feeling the smell of gunpowder when he remembered something? What was his and James’ job?

 

Close to two in the morning, mentally exhausted from all of his useless worrying and fruitless assumptions, Q decided that he had enough and that he would discuss everything James. He turned his attention to the man, intending to shake him awake and demand answers when his resolution completely disappeared.

 

James looked so peaceful the way he slept that Q was ready to call it cheating. Well, he could wait until they both wake up. And he will be sure to put the breakfast table between them because James had the uncanny ability to get him to drop the subject just by simply existing – case in point, Q deciding to postpone this important conversation for the next day because James was sleeping.

 

When sleep finally claimed him he found himself trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up no matter how hard he tried. No, not just a simple nightmare, he told himself as he recognized the white room. It was a memory.

 

He was tied to a chair in the white room and a really angry man dressed in an impeccable suit - though, compared to James’ usual ones, paled in comparison - and the letter ‘C’ embroidered with red thread in his chest loomed over him, smacking his face and snarling at him. He shouted insults at him, tugged strongly on his hair and tried to scare him by shoving a gun into his face.

 

“I will make you suffer,” the man promised. “I will make you suffer and beg,” he continued and he pushed something hot against Q’s arm.

 

He bit his lips until they were bleeding, hell-bent on not giving the man satisfaction. But in the end, Q gave in and gave the man the screams he coveted so much because he was not an agent and he did not have the proper training to resist it for too long. He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he felt that the thought was right.

 

“You ruined something that would have made the world a better place!” The man shouted and Q felt his chest swelling with pride.

 

“Child’s play, really,” he wheezed out. “I had more trouble with Silva’s programs and he only went after our servers, not complete world domination.” It was a complete lie, Q remembering feeling humiliated and frustrated with the glowing numbers and letters that were in front of him, but this stain on society didn’t need to know that.

 

“Well, I hoped you enjoyed humiliating us, because after I am done with you, you won’t be able to access your own e-mail account.” He pushed a button on the console in front of him and two giant needles appeared in front of Q. “It might take me a bit to find the right nerve since I am not as skilled as Ernst, so I apologize for the needless pain you’re about to feel.”

 

Q woke up drenched in his own sweat just as the first needle was entering his neck and he instinctively rolled towards James only to find that he was alone in the bed. He waited until his breathing went back to normal before starting to search for his husband, trying to ignore the way his head was pounding.

 

“Q, are you okay?” A woman asked, scaring Q so hard that he backed up against a wall and grabbed an ashtray to use it as a weapon. “I mean you no harm, Q. You don’t remember, but we met in the past. I am Doctor Madeleine Swann, a friend of James.” She smiled at him and held out a piece of paper. “He left you this message.”

 

Q ignored the piece of paper because something clicked inside his mind and he remembered something. He actually recognized the woman and the name and, although she really was no threat to him, she was lying about what she was to James.

 

In his mind, Q saw a bloody James covered in soot on a partially destroyed bridge. He wasn’t interested in the burning plane or the man that was on the ground, but in the fact that his husband was walking away from him to the woman, feeling his heart hurt as he put his arm around her shoulder. They shared a quick kiss and left, someone subtly grabbing his hand and giving it a pitying squeeze.

 

It made sense that _James_ would be the one to walk out on him and not the other way around. “I am perfectly fine, Miss Swann,” he heard himself say even as he started to shuffle towards the bedroom.

 

“Wait, don’t you want to read the letter from James?” Even his name on her lips sounded perfect and he flinched, shaking his head. “He mentions something about having a surprise for you,” she tried again, but Q just glared at her. “Then, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? I am a psychiatrist and I am sure that I can help you with whatever it is.”

 

What bothered him was that his husband had called his mistress over to babysit him. “I am sure you are a wonderful psychiatrist, Miss Swann, but nothing is bothering me.”

 

She didn’t look convinced one bit, her eyes narrowed, lips pursed, hands resting on her hips. But he knew that she couldn’t force him to accept her help, so she could disapprovingly at him all day long because he refused to play patient to his husband’s lover.

 

“I get the feeling that you don’t like me and—”

 

“I have a headache so I am going back to bed,” he cut her off. “I will also ask you kindly,” his voice was cold and anything but kind, “to keep it down when Bond comes back.” Because he really didn’t want to hear his husband kiss and make love to someone who wasn’t him – despite the fact that he was currently hearing the man moan alongside another woman in his head.

 

He shook his head when he let out a shaky breath, slapping himself. He never cried, especially when Bond did something. He needed to find out who ‘Ernst’ was and what he actually did for a living, a jolt of pleasure travelled through him the second he brushed his fingers against James’ laptop.

 

The password gave him no trouble and, without really being aware of what he was doing, he had tapped the left side of the laptop, a little scanning device popping out. If he scanned that disgusting octopus ring and booted up the right program, things would become clearer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments <3 
> 
> Ended up rewriting this chapter and splitting it in half. Because of this (and because we were moved to a new office) this might take a tiny bit longer.
> 
> Please forgive any and all mistakes and enjoy.

To say that he felt like a timed bomb, ready to explode was an understatement. It took too long to get to the airport, for the plane to board, for it to take off and then the stewardess refused to serve him any drinks because he was already volatile. And when he was finally in the air, the ride became a paradox because, at the same time, it took too long and not long enough for him to learn by heart the file he had on Q.

 

File which, by the by, did not contain his actual name due to the fact that James didn’t need to know his real name, according to R, Eve, M and everyone’s mothers. “In order for you to gain the right to visit him,” R had explained while handing James his plane tickets, “I created a fake marriage certificate in which he is named Daniel Quinn Bond. The Quinn being in there because I am sure you will slip up and call him Q.”

 

James wanted to argue, but the woman was right. To him Q would always be Q and he would always call him that - except, maybe, when they were finally in bed and he was reaching that moment of pure ecstasy. And he did sort-of look like a Daniel, if James squinted. For whatever reason, Q struck him more as a Ben – or Benedict, to do his sinful posh accent justice - than a Daniel.

 

Q’s minions alongside Tanner and Eve had been kind enough to add his favourite music, movies, and books and James felt so bad that he found out about them like this. If he had been a smart man, he would have noticed Q on his own a long time ago and they wouldn’t be in this situation.

 

For example, he would have loved it if he had found out that one of Q’s hobbies was playing the piano by the man offering to play it for him after a romantic dinner instead of reading about it in a file. On the bright side, he now stopped regretting having a baby grand piano in his apartment and he promised himself that he would take better care of it in the future because he was sure Q would give him hell for neglecting it and treating it like a secondary storage for his alcohol bottles.

 

Well, maybe if he read at least two of Q’s favourite romance novels, mix it with all the way too much and completely useless information about Q he had been given – but for which he was thankful – he would know what to do to re-sweep him off his feet after this impromptu mission was over. On the other hand, Q might get even more upset and misinterpret his good intentions with mockery and think he suffered from a strange form of after-mission insanity.

 

Because he would see himself as a mission no matter how much James would swear up and down that he would have pretended to be Q’s husband even if MI6 hadn’t unofficially tasked him with that. Even if he showed Q the phone messages he got from 004, 008 and 009 all asking him to let them do this, Q would still think James did it out of a sense of duty to him as his former Quartermaster and nothing else.

 

Well, Madeleine had warned him that it would be kind of hard to convince Q of his feelings and she said that before all of this happened. Which might not have happened if only James had used his head and asked the woman to stay in London with him a few months until he was sure he really was in love with her and that he really wanted to leave MI6.

 

Back to the present time, James was pleased to see that there were some things in the file that he already knew about. Such as Q’s love for Chinese food, hatred for tight suits, complete adoration of tea – the minion tasked with making it even including the right way to do it and James made a mental note to send the man or woman something nice for the information – and preference for museums over clubs.

 

Okay, so they were small things compared to things such as the fact that he had his appendix removed four months before becoming the Quartermaster or that he had corrective laser surgery five years prior, but it didn’t ‘stick’ because he was always working in a badly lit room or had his face glued to a very bright computer screen.

 

When the plane finally landed and he recovered his bags, he checked to see if the matching ring to the one he had on his finger was still in his pocket, hoped in a cab and went directly to the hospital. He didn’t care that visiting hours were over; his ‘husband’ was in there, in a coma and he wanted to see him, talk to his doctor and have him moved to a private hospital if he was stable enough.

 

He was ready to pay for an ambulance right then and there to take him, until he saw how frail Q looked, with many wires sticking out of his arms and mouth. He hesitated coming closer, afraid that his presence would somehow hurt Q even more.

 

How was it possible for the sound of a machine to calm him down and make him want to throw it out the window at the same time? The constant beeping told him that Q was alive, but it also reminded him that he had been hurt bad enough to need to be connected to such a machine.

 

This was not how James wanted to see Q sleeping half naked in a bed. This was not the right kind of bed, this was not the right kind of smell, and this was not the right kind of expression that Q was supposed to have on his face. Everything was wrong.

 

“Your husband is making a speedy recovery, Mister Bond,” the doctor offered in a thick German accent, helping James find a chair to sit on just outside Q’s room. “And I am not opposed to having him moved, but I would recommend you do so in the morning.”

 

James nodded. “Sure, whatever you think best, doctor.” A glass of water appeared out seemingly nowhere and until then James hadn’t realized just how dry his mouth was or just how much he needed it.

 

“I will give you some papers that need your signature. I will go over them with you, but it won’t take more than an hour.” The man squeezed James’ shoulder to keep him paying attention to him. “We also have a little bag of all the valuables we found on him—”

 

The doctor continued to talk for a while, listing all the wounds that had been found on Q’s body and James knew he had been torture. James soon found himself holding some papers, but he couldn’t focus on anything because every word that came out of the doctor’s mouth hurt him. He was more than happy to allow for the man’s voice to be drowned out by constant being noise that was coming from Q’s room though not as pleased with himself when all the letters on the papers continued to jump around, refusing to form actual words.

 

He didn’t remember going to a hotel or renting a room, but when the fog in his head finally cleared up, he was sitting in the middle of a lavish penthouse, spreading the contents of a little yellow bag on a soft bed.

 

His breath left his body when he saw the ring. The ring with that cursed sign that followed him since forever, the ring that he had given Q to analyse not that long ago. Of course he hadn’t been dumb enough to assume that SPECTRE would completely disappear once its head was cut down. He had seen so many in that room that were surely more than ready to take his spot.

 

“Eve is Ernst still in prison or did he cut a deal with the Prime Minister and he is now resting on an island that officially doesn’t exist?” He breathed out in the phone, uncaring that the woman sounded as if she had been woken up.

 

“ _I am not saying that the Quartermaster has been able to provide us with material to keep that man as far away from your happy ending as possible, but suffice to say that this current Prime Minister won’t have any interest in bargaining with him._ ” Someone grumbled next to her and she shushed them.

 

That helped relieve the pressure a little. “What about the other SPECTRE members? There were at least a hundred people in the room and some of them seemed _familiar_ , as if I’ve seen them at those horrendous dinner parties I was forced to attend by the old M.”

 

Eve sighed. “ _I am not at liberty to discuss the ongoing hunt for the others members since you are—ah, ups, accidentally said too much._ ”

 

The woman always knew how to give him information without outright doing so. “Might you also have another slip of the tongue where you tell me if MI6 has _everyone_ under surveillance?”

 

“ _Bond, the people you saw there… They were just the tip of the iceberg.”_ How he really hoped that for once in his life, he wouldn’t have to deal with something that was more than it met the eye. _“The Quartermaster proposed that what you witnessed was nothing more than a simple play. A teaser of what SPECTRE really is. James, are they connected to Q’s disappearance?_ ”

 

Of course; how silly of him to think that the man who knew everything wouldn’t know that he was coming there. “Unless they started to sell jewellery with octopi on them or Q stole the ring from Ernst, than yes they are. And, before you even think it, I will not pull back. There might be a mole in MI6—“

 

“ _There might always be a mole in here, Bond,”_ she interrupted. “ _It comes with the territory._ ”

 

His head was starting to hurt. He shouldn’t have left Q behind even if the man was capable of making the world crumble at the push of a button. He might have been the king of the digital world, feared and coveted by all, but in the real world… In the world where someone with even a tiny bit of muscle mass, Q was a sitting duck.

 

“Don’t let anyone know about my suspicions. Just say that he’s been involved in an accident and that he’s going on a medical leave. Don’t send anyone over; I’ll be his bodyguard until this whole thing is resolved.” Because, at this point, James couldn’t find it in himself to trust anyone with the young man but himself. “Promise me, Eve,” he demanded and the woman sighed, giving in.

 

“ _The accident story won’t stick because he’s been taken right out from under 003’s nose,”_ now James knew whose nose he needed to break to make sure that they never lose track of Q ever again, “ _but we can say that the men who took him had an old grudge with our agent and had no idea who they were actually kidnapping until they did and they panicked and dropped him off on the side of the road._ ”

 

The ones involved in Q’s kidnapping wouldn’t buy this for a second, but Eve would be sure to keep an eye on everyone with the help of R – and he knew he could trust the woman because she turned into a lioness that saw Q as a cub when he was in danger so she would never do anything to harm him – and dispose of those who started to act suspicious.

 

Morning came and he woke up to news of Q having been moved to the best private hospital in the city and that his state was still stable. He went to visit him and sat by his side until he was kicked out of the room, the weight on his heart becoming lighter with each day that Q looked healthier.

 

Then he caught a glimpse of green eyes and then the world around him shattered when he saw them fill with pure panic and fear. Q struggled for a moment, his mind still lost in whatever horrible place he had been kept before and James leaned over and touched him, hoping that would help.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said with confidence and held a glass of water to his lips, remembering the countless times he had woken up in a hospital with a dying need for the liquid. “The nurse and doctors are on their way, but until then, drink a bit of water.”

 

Q was lost looking at him and James was expecting to hear something like ‘You came’ or ‘Am I dreaming?’ But the actual words that came out of his former Quartermaster’s mouth left him cold and empty, the little that was left of his heart breaking again.

 

“Who are you? Who am I?”

 

James understood that the doctor needed to confirm her suspicious, but as far as he was concerned, since Q didn’t remember his own name, asking him the bloody year they were in was overkill.

 

“1000?” Q asked in the frailest voice James head ever heard him use, hands starting to tremble when he glanced at the doctor. “I meant to say 1500?” This time he looked at him, silently pleading for a nod, the machines he was connected to starting to go haywire. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

 

In the past, when he dealt with hysterical people, he had slapped them. But none of them had actually been on Death’s doorway and none of them couldn’t remember who they were and they certainly didn’t look like a strong gust of wind would carry them on another continued while Q did. So he just started to rub his back, glaring at the woman.

 

He hadn’t been trained to deal with former superiors that he had more than a simple sexual interest and who had lost their memories. Was he supposed to break character, risk him having an actual panic attack while also getting himself thrown in jail? Definitely not because Q was already suffering more than enough. Should he continue to be Q’s ‘husband’?  

 

“Your husband has retrograde amnesia.” Well, the doctor made the choice for him and James will be sure to tell Q that when he got his memory back.

 

But he will not mention that he was too quick to accept James as his husband, already looking for his ring. “You lost yours in the accident you had, love.” He took a risk and kissed Q’s temple, warmth washing over him. As he helped Q lean back, he promised himself that he would do that as much as possible as long as he was allowed.

 

“Oh God, I can’t remember anything. Not your name, not mine, and not even the day we got married on,” Q mumbled and then hid his face in James’ chest which made the man melt even more, smiling when he felt the man relax a bit.

 

He told Q their fake history together, wishing that he was speaking the truth and slipped the ring slash tracker on his finger. With a kiss, he promised to never ever lose track of him again and to never allow any sort of harm come to him, noticing that he was no 100% sold on the names he was given. Good, at least Q’s instincts were fine.

 

An idea popped into his mind. “Do you remember what you look like?” Q looked utterly miserable as he shook his head slowly and James sent the nurse to bring him a mirror, finally running his hand through Q’s hair. Even unwashed, it felt like it was silk and James felt jealous of everyone who got to touch it before him.

 

“You have brown hair that’s usually all over the place and it looks like it’s an entity on its own,” he started to say, remembering all the times he had caught Q pat his head before groaning and throwing his hands up in defeat. He should have offered to help him with that, but back then it would have been nothing more than a simple tease.

 

He never thought he’d see the day in which his Quartermaster pouted, but it somehow made those lips even more desirable. “Don’t I comb it?”

 

He chuckled, easily picturing what Eve had told him about how she had seen Q struggle for fifteen minutes trying to tame it before slamming the comb down on the kitchen skin and pouting. “You do, but it still does whatever it wants and that frustrates you. When that happens, you puff your lips and roll your eyes if I say you’re pouting.” He cupped Q’s face and brushed his lower lip with his thumb, distracting him from the nurse who had started to fiddle with the morphine flow. “You have the most beautiful green eyes that I have ever seen, but are frustrated with them because you need glasses.”

 

“Is there anything about myself that I like?” Q asked and looked cuter still when he struggled to hold back a yawn. “Why am I sleepy? I don’t want to go to sleep just in case I wake up in that forest again.”

 

He wanted to pull Q in his arms and squeeze him until his fears went away, but he might have ended up breaking a few of his bones. “You love your brain and I love it as well. Because you are a brilliant man who bends technology to his will.” He gave him the mirror and barely managed to hold back from laughing when he saw Q starting to make all sort of faces and stick out his tongue at his reflection. “And you can go to sleep easily because you’ll wake up here, with me.”

 

Q started to compare how they looked in his mind and James smiled at him, making him blush and look even more desirable. Only then did it cross James’ mind that Q might not think himself beautiful enough to end up with James. And that was a completely stupid because Q had half of MI6 wrapped around his finger and R had been more than happy to list all the people outside of their agency who had crushes on him, CIA and KGB agents included.

 

He was completely unaware of that, too blinded about his own feelings for James to notice anyone around him and R made it clear how much she wished that he’d snap out of it. She liked even the shadiest KGB agent who kept brushing against Q accidentally until the man threatened to use a freeze ray on him way more than James because that man saw beyond the end of his own nose and actually did what Q asked.

 

“ _Unlike you who just keeps on taking and taking and giving him a hard time and at least five heart attacks per mission because you are Bond, James Bond, agent extraordinaire_ ,” she growled into the phone, hitting they keyboard harder and harder with every word she said.

 

Well, he wouldn’t allow Q to doubt himself. He would reassure him and hold his hand until he remembered just how great, wonderful, beautiful and ethereal he was.

 

“You are breathtaking, you know. A scatterbrain when it comes to your own health, but carrying when it comes to others. You are witty and intelligent and full of love,” he tried to resist getting closer to him, but Q was like the sun and James a pathetic, wandering comet that got trapped in his gravitational pull. “There isn’t a day when I don’t ask myself how I got so lucky to have you whisper in my ear and guide me through my life, patiently waiting for me to realize when I’ve made a mistake and not rubbing my nose in it.”

 

And really, there wasn’t. Even when he was blind, he couldn’t help but wonder and thank his lucky stars that he had such a brilliant mind trust him so much and protecting him so fiercely against both MI6 and his actual enemies. Q deserved the world and more and James planned on starting his gifts with a kiss, but he leaned away when he realized what James was about to do and covered his mouth.

 

Q looked like he was about to apologize and James couldn’t allow that. There was no need for him to feel sorry because he didn’t feel like he was ready for something and he clearly needed to slow down. “We’ll kiss when you feel confident, Q. Don’t force yourself; everything will come to you in due time.” He moved away to give Q his space and the nurse informed him that visiting hours were over.

 

Only the woman had used words that could be interpreted in another way and Q panicked, thinking that James would die. So his memory loss seemed to extend to what some idioms meant, but James still wanted to flick the woman’s nose for scaring his ‘husband’.

 

“She means visiting hours are over, Q,” he said as he took Q’s hand and kissed it. “But I am sure that, since this is a private hospital and we are in a private room, we can reach an agreement,” he said, focusing on the glaring woman. “Money is not a problem, in case anyone was worried about that.”

 

The woman pondered for a moment before nodding and asked someone to bring him a comfier chair. He talked with Q about all sort of little things, dancing around what their actual jobs were, stealing little chuckles and crystalline laughter with his various stories until he fell asleep.

 

He talked with Eve later that night and filled her in on what was happening, asking her to give his thanks to everyone who told him so much about Q. He was sad that he had to use it in such a way – not that there was any right way to use information that wasn’t freely given to him – but it was better than to have a paranoid Q.

 

The doctor was surprised at how fast Q was recovering and James kept on telling him the stories about his past that seemed to help. He changed some details, of course, upgrading Eve and R from his friends to his older sisters because of the way they acted – he had been tempted to make Eve into his mother, but she wasn’t old enough to have a child that was Q’s age and he really didn’t want to face her wrath when she heard what he had done.

 

Q didn’t ask why they weren’t there but in his state he was an open book, so James knew what was eating him. “They tried to be here, but their jobs made it impossible for them. You see, they work for the government,” James said honestly. “They also have incredibly bad timing because they keep calling when you are asleep.” He left out the part when he had put his phone on silent and rejected their calls. “But since you are awake now, you can give them a call if you’d like,” he quickly added, just in case Q would think that he was trying to keep him from his family.

 

But Q shook his head, no doubt trying to avoid making his family suffer and making James feel even more horrible than he already was because his lie had caused him more pain. And when they heard that, both R and Eve promised to make him pay and he agreed to silently go through anything and everything they planned on putting him through.

 

James told Q about his minions, presenting them as his friends – which they were – and how much they loved him and no sooner had he done that, that Q’s room filled with stuffed animals of all shapes, sizes and classes. And when he saw how happy Q was to hug them and pat them, James cheated and got him a stuffed bear of the movie R claimed Q loved the most because of how it helped him relax.

 

Of course Q loved that bear the most, constantly keeping it near him and smiling softly when he looked at it when he thought James wasn’t looking. And if James had cheated a bit more and sprayed his perfume on it just to be sure that Q would always think of him, then people should remember that he was a double oh agent who was supposed to lack any form of conscience – and yet, if he did something that made Q frown even for a second, he quickly apologized and offered to be his servant until the end of time.

 

The little Paddington bear survived even Q’s enormous heart, being virtually the only stuffed animal that remained his. He explained to James, although it wasn’t needed, that since the teddy bear was the first gift he remembered James giving him, he would keep it even if he had five more at home – the ring didn’t count, he said, because they were married and he saw that married people _had_ to have them on.

 

“Your cats might hate the amount of love you’re showing him since they already have a rather difficult time accepting me,” James said and he only realized at how surprised Q was that he had somehow managed to forgot telling him about those two little fury beasts.

 

Naturally, Q asked for pictures and James kicked himself for not thinking about that. His phone was so empty of anything personal that it might as well be a very expensive burner phone. He didn’t even have numbers saved in it, but he had been trained to memorize them in his mind in order to keep everyone from getting compromised in case he was captured.

 

“I was taking a bath when they called me to tell me about your accident and I dropped it in the water,” he lied. “I bought a new one, but I wasn’t in the mood nor did I have time to fill it with pictures. “But I promise I will remedy that as fast as possible.”

 

As soon as Q was asleep, he asked R to help him with the problem. He needed pictures of the cats – some should be from they were younger because Q’s significant other would have that on their phone – of Q at various parties and in various states of undress – though he would be so jealous of the woman actually provided them – and most importantly, of them together because they were married.

 

“See if you can fake something with us kissing or something,” he added as an afterthought and the woman started to laugh, ending their conversation before he could ask what she found so amusing in his request.

 

Though he liked to help Q fill in the blanks with some things, there were cases in which he wanted Q to do that on his own or by experiencing them with him. So he didn’t tell him what his favourite food was – but he did his best to convince the man to eat what the hospital had to offer, the doctor refusing to let him order anything because Q was on a special diet – and let him find out on his own what he liked to drink.

 

Admittedly, letting Q drink coffee when he _knew_ he hated it was a horrible idea and since the black liquid had a strong smell, Q reached the conclusion that the best thing that could help him drown out the horrible food taste was that. Thus James was currently gritting his teeth as hot coffee was being spat all over him, just a tad amused by Q desperately trying to wipe his tongue with his sleeve.

 

“I promise to go make you tea after you finish everything in this plate.” He offered, holding the fork closer to Q’s mouth.

 

As if something clicked inside the young man’s mind at the mere mention of the drink, Q grabbed the fork away from him and shovelled almost all the contents of the plate in his mouth. “Do I like tea?” He asked with his mouth full and nose covered in sauce, somehow managing to avoid chocking or biting his tongue.

 

James remembered how he found out that it gave Q life and power to deal with things when they went to hell. He had just returned from a mission, nothing but half of an earwig in his pocket, a blood-stained shirt and his million pound grin for his Quartermaster. Except, Q wasn’t having it.

 

The man instantly started to scold him, asking him questions to which he gave the answer without even getting a breath of air between the words. And James sat quietly and a little bit worried and waited for Q to tire himself out until he saw Q waver and clutch tightly to the side of his desk, green eyes unfocused.

 

He helped him to Medical where he got roped into a complete check-up and patching job, eavesdropping on the doctor scolding his Quartermaster. “You’re practically dehydrated and your co-workers have confirmed that you ignored the food that has been brought to you,” the man was saying and at this point, James was glued to the wall, shushing his nurse because he wanted to hear everything.

 

“There’s no more tea,” Q whispered. “And I had no time for food because of the _five_ meetings I was pulled in and there is no more tea. The water tastes funny in my side of the building and coffee on an empty stomach is a very bad idea.”

 

James snorted and the eldest nurse, the one who had been cursed to deal with him since he started working for MI6, grabbed hold of his right ear and pulled him back to the examination table. Not that it matter since James knew more than enough and from that day on, Q always had tea in his branch. He couldn’t do anything about the food, but at least Q would be hydrated.

 

Back then, he thought the worry he felt was for a friend and an ally and nothing more. But now he knew better. He knew and accepted that Q was more to him than that.

 

“You practically live on it if it is done just right.”

 

As he watched Q’s face light up and heard him moan in pleasure after the first sip of his tea, James reminded himself to give the minion who had revealed to him the secret of the perfect cup anything and everything they wanted – provided they didn’t ask for Q, which might be a useless fear since only James would be so selfish.

 

“For every cup of tea you make me, I will give you anything you ask of me,” Q muttered and James chuckled at how easy it was to gain favours from him.

 

He was tempted to ask for a kiss, but it wouldn’t be as good as one given freely and he was selfish, not a complete scumbag that takes total advantage of amnesiac people. And he was happy enough that Q allowed him around him and that he had accepted him as his husband, smiling at him and trusting him entirely.

 

“You’re already giving me everything I want by simply loving me, darling,” he whispered, kissing Q’s neck and making him shiver. “So I’ll be satisfied with your honest smile when you drink it.”

 

Q still pulled faces when it was time to eat even if James placed a cup of tea next to him and when it was dinner time, because black tea would have kept him up, James had nothing with what to bribe him so Q barely ate half of what was on the plate. In the end, James ended up sneaking food in without anyone knowing, Q included.

 

But the real problem was the fact that the doctor seemed to be fascinated with Q’s blood and the first time the man saw a needle, his instincts told him to run. And since Q had never reacted in such a violent way – James watching amazed and a bit aroused at how easily Q dealt with the two orderlies that were twice his size in both height and body muscle – the only logical conclusion was that his tormentor had used needles on him.

 

That together with the wound he had seen in Q’s neck and temple which had made James touch the spots where Ernst had poked confirmed that SPECTRE had been behind everything.

 

He would need to talk with Eve and R as soon as Q was asleep and see if he had any contacts in this country that could do some investigating in his place. But first, he needed to be sure that Q was calmed down and that the hospital’s staff understood that they would regret if they ever scare his husband again.

 

“Love, no one is going to harm you,” because if he even thought someone might do that, he would use his licence to kill. “And if they try, I will rip out their arms and beat them do death with it.” And then nail them to the walls outside of Q’s room as a warning.

 

Of course Q’s nurse and doctor weren’t happy when they heard his threats and made it clear that they would have James arrested, the doctor’s demeanour reminded him a lot about that old nurse who never put up with his crap. But he was willing to risk that because seeing Q cover in the back of that closet, looking so much alike a scared and wounded rabbit had made him sick to his stomach.

 

“My husband—“

 

“Understands that this has to be done and that you are not trying to hurt me,” Q interrupted him, unconsciously using his Quartermaster voice. “I will try to control my reactions as will my James.”

 

James couldn’t hold back the proud smile that appeared on his lips when he heard that he was Q’s. A minor thing that most would ignore, but the force and possessiveness put behind that ‘my’ had made him feel euphoric.

 

He was still riding that wave when he called Eve to tell her what he had found out and because of that, she had to ask if perhaps it would be for the best if James pulled back and let someone else take care of Q.

 

“Over my dead body,” he said seriously, glancing in Q’s room to make sure that he was still sleeping. “A bloody double oh agent lost him in the first place. What makes you think that a _collaborator_ would be better at protecting the Quartermaster?”

 

“ _James, you’re compromised—“_

 

“I don’t care,” he growled. “Q is **_my_** mission and no one is going to take him away from me, got it? Plus, he thinks that I am his husband and if he is suddenly taken away from me, I will put up a fight and he will think he’s being kidnapped. Do you want that to happen?”

 

Eve said nothing for a few moments and James knew that he had won. “ _R seems to agree with you that we have a mole on the inside, but I am happy to say that the people who are acting strange are not from the double oh section or from Q’s branch._ ”

 

Good, James thought. Q really cared about his minions as if they were family and it would break his heart if one of them betrayed him. “Marvellous as always, Miss Moneypenny. I will keep doing my job, you yours and we’ll talk the next time either one of us finds something interesting, okay?”

 

“ _Just don’t do your mission the way you usually do it, okay Bond?_ ”

 

“I really don’t like what you’re implying, Miss Moneypenny and shame on you for thinking I’d do something like that. Bond out.” He closed the phone and the door behind with a bit too much force, Q flinching in his sleep. “It’s okay, love. It’s just me.” He ran his hand down Q’s face and the man instantly relaxed, a little smile on his lips. “I think you’re the real sleeping beauty,” he whispered and Q started to snore as if to prove him wrong, but James found him even more endearing.

 

He wasn’t actually bothered by Eve’s fears and he deeply respected her for how much she cared about Q - and his respect also went to R, only mixed with a bit of fear because she was Q’s second in command and she could do a lot of damage if she wanted to.

 

What really bothered him was the fact that the hospital appeared to be really obsessed with Q’s blood, taking samples of it every day. Q was doing much better when he saw the needle, just cringing, squeezing James’ hand really tight and hiding his face in his chest, but enough was enough.

 

And, after one week of seeing Q go through such a torture, he finally snapped. “Why do you keep taking samples from him?” He had to stop himself from slapping the woman’s hand away from Q’s arm and from gathering the man up in his arm and try to hide him in his chest. “He’s not a donor and if you keep doing this, he’ll be so pale that I’ll lose him in the sheets.”

 

“Mister Bond, we never take more than a syringe full of your husband’s blood and if we were taking too much, we would immediately give him a blood transfusion.” She took Q’s medical chart and she was one swing away from smacking him in the face with it. “He has gained five kilograms, brought the calcium and magnesium out of the danger zone and he has more colour in his cheeks than in the picture in his ID.”

 

She was speaking the truth, of course, but James still wasn’t happy about it. And then he started to think about that horrifying idea and dread took over his heart, but the nurse realized that and quickly put his fears to rest. Q was not HIV positive; Q was perfectly healthy.

 

“But we did find something strange in his bloodstream.” James instantly knew what she was talking about and he panicked. He panicked because there was no normal way to explain to Q why he had nanomachines coursing through his body. “They are not organic and—”

 

“I assure you that those are nothing to worry about.” He interrupted her and quickly gave her a Universal Exports card, knowing that Eve would fix things. “Call my company and they will explain everything.” M himself will shove money in the doctor’s bank accounts if it kept her from asking too many indiscreet questions that would endangers herself and Q.

 

“Sir, we can’t just—“

 

“You can and you will.”

 

He focused on distracting Q from the conversation, suddenly remembering himself that R had sent him the pictures he requested on the previous night. It worked and Q was curious and pleased, some of the pictures even helping him remember certain things, James’ heart going a mile a second with how happy he was about that until Q grew frustrated again.

 

“James, hit me over the head with a bedpan,” he pleaded from the safety of James’ arms. “Maybe it will fix my defective brain and you won’t have to suffer through me not remembering us.”

 

His brain revolted at Q’s words, especially with so much pain behind them. James had hurt with his stupidity, selfishness and blindness enough for ten lifetimes and even picturing hurting Q again made him sick. “I would never hurt you knowingly, Q. And your wonderful brain isn’t defective, nor am I suffering through anything. For better or for worse, love, and we can make so many new memories together that this is a second honeymoon, second first time date, second first time everything.”

 

He never thought the honesty and the raw feelings behind his words would be the reason he and Q would kiss for the first time. Or that he would ever be caught by surprise with a kiss. And although their first attempt ended with their noses hurting and with Q blushing, James wasn’t going to let this be a failed attempt. He kept Q in place, tilted his head a bit and kissed him.

 

If heaven had a feeling or a taste, this would be it. It didn’t matter that Q was a bit clumsy and that it was obvious he lacked experience: this was the best kiss James had ever received. It made his insides feel warm and his stomach did a thing that it hadn’t done since he had experienced his first kiss at the tender age of fourteen - also with a bespectacled boy who he had teased endlessly until that second.

 

He did his best to ignore the doctor. Loved it when Q wrapped his arms around his neck to be sure that he wasn’t planning on pulling away any time soon and then Q’s shoulder was tapped and James entered in protective mode without meaning to. He hugged him to his chest and snarled at the doctor until his brain started functioning again, the woman looking beyond annoyed and done with him.

 

“Mister Bond, we can start the discharge process right away, if you wish.” She was probably thinking of someone who was strong enough to kick James in the ass so hard that he would fly back to his hotel, looking like she regretted allowing him to practically move in with Q.

 

Q busied himself with the pictures while James dealt with the legal side of things, a quick glance in his direction worrying the agent. Q had the same face he did when he was presented with a set of information that he thought to be wrong or fake.

 

“They’re wrong,” Q whispered and James started to write faster. He needed to do something to stop Q from becoming more suspicious because now wasn’t the right time to reveal what they really were to each other and what they did. Q wasn’t stable enough for that. Not yet, at least.

 

When they finally got to their hotel room, James insisted on carrying Q over the threshold, carefully placing him on the bed. They stared at each other for a few moments and Q closed his eyes, pushing his head forward just a bit, James more than happy to comply with the silent request and kiss him.

 

They also had dinner at a restaurant that night and James bent over backwards to make their first date perfect. James took him to the best restaurant in town and watched with great satisfaction as Q devoured everything on his plate, looking ecstatic and happy. That was how Q was supposed to look and James promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make that a reality.

 

That was also the first night they slept in the same bed and the second Q put his head on James’ chest, he fell asleep. James would have loved to do the same, but he suddenly decided that he needed to use the toilet, but he didn’t want to move and wake Q up. He felt like he was one of those people who froze when a cat or dog sat on their lap – though Q was definitely a giant cat and he frankly wouldn’t be surprised if the man started to purr. And if it wasn’t for his treacherous bladder, James was sure he’d fall asleep as fast as Q.

 

When Q rolled away, James thought he got lucky. But then Q sat up and got out of bed, heading straight for the door. James quickly followed him, sliding in front of him only to realize that the man was sleepwalking.

 

He hadn’t done this when they had been in the hospital and he was pretty sure someone would have included this dangerous habit in his file.

 

“Q?” he said carefully, brushing his hand against his arm. “Q, can you hear me?” Q frowned, but nodded, eyes still closed. “Where are you going, Q?”

 

“I am not telling you,” he growled, taking a step back and turning his head towards the window, James’ blood freezing in his veins. “I have to get out. I have to go to him. He might be in danger.”

 

Placing himself between Q and the window, James got ready to tackle Q to the ground should he try to jump through the window. “Why do you have to get out? Do you know where you are right now? Who is he and why do you think he’s in danger?” He was worried, but he still felt a pang of jealousy.

 

Q bit his lip and shook his head. “I’m where you put me and I am not telling you anything else, no matter what you do. Bond is—” he gasped and covered his mouth, crouching.

 

James got down on his knees next to Q and carefully touched his arms, trying to ignore his flinch and the way he took in a shaky breath. “Q, I’m Bond. Are you talking about me? Do you think I’m in danger?”

 

Q bit his lower lip and tried to make himself smaller until he caught a whiff of James’ smell and ran his hands down James’ face, smiling. “So he lied and you’re safe.” He pushed himself in James’ arms and James hugged him tightly. “Let me let hold you like this for a moment, 007.”

 

James’ mouth went dry. “We can hug for as long as you want, my Quartermaster,” he breathed out and stayed like that until Q started to snore again.

 

He carried him back to the bed, tucked him in and waited for an hour to be sure Q wouldn’t sleep walk again before going to the bathroom - door open, almost breaking his neck as he tried to look over his shoulder and have Q in his sight - and when he returned to bed, even though Q instantly glued himself to him, James couldn’t fall asleep.

 

So he did the next best thing and stayed awake the entire night, checking with his contacts to see if they had found out anything useful and then working with R via phone to see if they could find any bit of information regarding the owner of the land Q had been found on.

 

Officially, it was a private institution that helped young people who were addicted to the internet fix their problems, but something wasn’t right. When R tried to use one of the many spy satellites that were orbiting Earth to take a picture of the compound, the connection was lost and she was instantly contacted by the CIA to let her know that their satellite was suddenly entering the Earth’s atmosphere.

 

The owner was another big mystery, because the only person with that name that R had found was someone who had died fifty-six years ago. And she had even managed to access to secret files - although she admitted with great embarrassment that Q would have done it in five minutes on his own while she had wasted almost an hour and had enlisted the help of two other minions.

 

“This requires fieldwork,” James whispered, entangling his fingers in Q’s hair, smiling when he man sighed and rubbed his face against his chest. “See if you can find me the fastest route and if you can get me a silent, yet fast car.”

 

“ _You could let MI6 take over. It will be easy to fake some rumours about terrorists acting in that area with how crazy things are in the world right now_ ,” she offered, genuinely sounding like she was trying to be helpful.

 

“Now R, even though you’d love to hang me by my own guts, especially since Q is using me as a pillow right now and I’m feeling something that tells me that he’s loving every second of it, would you really trust anyone else to deal with this?” James asked, smirk clear in his voice.

 

She let out a long, suffering sigh. “ _I’ll leave the information with our guy in the hotel. The car won’t be MI6 issued, so no tricks to get you out of those tight spots you love to get yourself in. Do have a decent night, Bond and don’t poke the Quartermaster with anything unless you want to lose it_.”

 

He was sure that was going to be as close as he would ever get to the woman wishing him a good night and he felt like she was starting to warm up to him. “Thank you for your help, R.”

 

The sun slowly started to rise and James shut everything down, settling in for a short nap, trying to come up with a plan to keep Q happy and exhaust him at the same time so he wouldn’t feel him sneak away during the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....well, so this grew with one more chapter. I am sorry.
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and kind words :)
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy the story and please forgive any and all mistakes as well as the slow posting (I do so hate the new office and I really don't want my boss to read this over my shoulder)

Q had an adorable way of waking up. He started with a little hum which would give a big yawn and then he’d rub his nose against James’ chest and stretch until all of his bones cracked. James had seen Q’s cats do the same, although they also liked to sink their claws in his side just to let him know that they hated he was there instead of their master.

 

He pretended to be asleep, just to see what Q would do and he wasn’t disappointed. The man brought his face really close to him to watch him for a moment, smiled as he started to caress his face with the back of his hand and then leaned over to give him a chaste kiss. That was Q’s morning ritual, only that James loved and that he really hoped would evolve to the point where he knew for sure the young man wouldn’t be spooked by him suddenly wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in for a real kiss.

 

But he was happy with how things currently were, because Q had woken up after that first night with no memory of what he had done. And he was also happy that he had only sleepwalked that one time, since the next two nights he had stayed up until the crack to dawn to be sure and then he called Madeleine over to keep watch in his place, booking a room for her on the floor directly below them.

 

The woman thought she was being called over to be a witness and she had teasingly asked James which one of them was planning to wear the white tux only to feel horrible when she found out that Q suffered from retrograde amnesia.

 

“Well, if you say that he remembered some things, there is quite a lot of hope,” she whispered as she peeked in the bedroom at the sleeping Q. “But I am fully against you pretending to be his husband.”

 

James rolled his eyes and checked his gun. “You’re not the first. And yes, I am fully aware that he _might_ hate me—“

 

“ _Will_ hate you,” she quickly corrected him.

 

“Semantics,” he growled and zipped up his jacket. “Anyway, keep an eye on him. If he starts sleepwalking again, call me. And don’t worry about getting attacked. The hotel is practically filled with either former MI6 agents, agents who are on vacation or with people who owe me their lives.”

 

Q mumbled something and James was instantly kneeling next to him, brushing the bangs away from his face and pushing the bear that had been drenched in his aftershave closer to him. “Q, love, did you need anything?” James asked in a low whisper.

 

“I don’t want to eat this horrible coffee food,” Q grumbled, pouting. “I don’t wanna and you can’t make me.”

 

Madeleine backed away from the doorway when James leaned closer to Q’s ear to mutter something and closed the door behind her, the scene too intimate for anyone to witness it despite both men being fully dressed and not doing anything sexual.

 

“I will ask you not to wear perfume or to use mine if you have to,” James said as soon as he exited the room, the soft smile he had on disappearing instantly. “Because it wouldn’t make sense for the room to smell like a woman in the morning when he went to sleep surrounded just by my scent.”

 

She snorted. “Only a spy could make a plan that included even that small detail. But don’t worry,” she pushed herself up from the chair and moved closer to James, tilting her head back to let him smell her neck, “I figured you might think of that so I used the bottle you left behind.”

 

He smiled and kissed both of her hands. She truly was a smart woman and he had no second thoughts about leaving his Q in her care.

At least that part of the actual mission was going right. Everything else, not so much. It took him two whole hours if he floored it to get to the forest and back, which earned him countless tickets that he didn’t care about but that had R pulling out strands of hair. He almost got devoured by wolves that were kept as security dogs five times and he had to tranquilize a bear. And even if he ignored all of that and the free jackets he had ruined in hidden barbwire, the closest he had gotten to the compound had been only to make a quick note that it was too big and too heavily guarded to be what it claimed.

 

It was clear what he needed to do, but he couldn’t find it in his heart. Not yet, at least. Greedy as he was, he wanted to spend more time with Q and although he trusted Madeleine – especially since he was going to fill their hotel floor with people who were not as reluctant as the lovely Miss Swann to use a gun to provide her with backup if needed – he still felt better when he was doing the guarding.

 

“James, are you alright?” Q asked softly, carefully placing his hand on top of his while he looked at him with worry-filled eyes. “You look very tired. Maybe we shouldn’t go out today.”

 

There was a high possibility that Q always looked at him like this, even when he was nothing more than a small coloured dot on a giant screen. “I am perfectly fine, love,” he lied through his teeth again. “This coffee is weaker than what I usually drink and it takes me longer to wake up.”

 

Q didn’t look convinced, but dropped the subject and James mentally apologized to him. Then again, Q started to look suspicious at him every now and then and James would have sold his soul to see what was going on in that brilliant head of his. And still, it didn’t feel like Q was forcing himself to kiss him or cling to him and when he laughed, his laughter was genuine. If only…

 

“Ah, you spaced out again,” Q muttered right in his ear and James jumped, flexing his hand as he forced himself not to reach for the gun he had hid next to his ankle. “I don’t think we should go out today.” He pushed his face against James’ forehead, checking to see if he had a fever. “You don’t feel too warm. Well, I think this is the normal kind of warm you’re supposed to be,” Q mumbled and James realized that yes, he could find him even more endearing than he already did.

 

He wrapped his arms around Q and held back from squeezing as tightly as he wanted. “We’ll do whatever you want, love. I will always do what you tell me.”

 

Q bursted into laughter and moved away from James, throwing himself on the bed and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I don’t know why I am finding that so amusing,” he wheezed out, tears rolling down his face. “I can’t help it, sorry Bond.”

 

James flinched at the use of his family name, but Q didn’t notice his slip of tongue. “It might have something to do with the fact that you _claim_ I always do the exact opposite of what you tell me,” he said as he sat down next to Q and started to rub his back, a bit worried at how red his face was.

 

“Well, at least my subconscious is still working fine, if I have these sorts of reactions when you say something that’s completely out of character.” He rolled on James’ lap and tried to breathe normally. “You know I am going to hint at what you just said when I recover my memory and you make a left when I tell you to go to your right.”

 

He was happy that Q seemed to remember more and more without really realizing it and happier still that he never laughed or got sad when he declared his love and loyalty for him without actually using words.

 

A cracking noise distracted him and he initially looked at the door, expecting so see a bunch of bad guys pouring in with their weapons drawn, when he realized that it was just Q cracking his knuckles. This was the third time it happened and James suspected that it had something to do with the fact that Q’s muscles and fingers missed the man’s computer work. Even he needed to go to the shooting range every now and then to get rid of his deadly itch.

 

“It’s not that I do not appreciate or love your hand massages,” Q started to say carefully and James made a mental note to take extra massage classes just in case he wasn’t doing it the way the man liked it, “but I think I need to write something. Not with a pen because that just makes me think of a giant mountain of papers which I think I hate more than coffee, but on a keyboard.”

 

He so loved it when he was right and that he was starting to know how to read Q and know his needs. He would make a good husband. Well, maybe only to Q because, according to Madeleine, he needed someone who understood him and his pats not to be creeped out by some of his ticks and habits.

 

“Then I have just the thing for you, darling.” He waited for Q to get off of him – because he had really turned into that kind of person who couldn’t find it in themselves to push a cat off of their lap – and dug under the bed for his laptop. “You can type in Word to your heart’s desire.”

 

Q was already doing just that, eyes filled with excitement, mouth parted, the world around him already nothing more than a series of zeroes and ones. James chuckled and kissed the back of his neck, remembering the day when he had entered Q’s office in the most noisy way possible, announcing the man that he had brought – for once – his equipment and yes, he had even stopped on his way to get him a calendar and a red marker.

 

Except Q didn’t turn and didn’t even make that little noise in the back of his throat that he usually did to acknowledge James’ presence near him and to also let him know that he was too busy to do anything else. So, naturally, James acted like the mature adult he was and started to poke his nose through all of Q’s projects. R smacked him upside the head when he touched an explosive device that wasn’t quite done.

 

He must have dozed off because he was startled when Q placed his hand on his stomach and gently shook him. “Something tells me I am not a novelist,” he said slowly, looking really confused at the screen.

 

James took a single glance at the file and he saved it, deciding that it looked important and that R might know what it was, ruffling Q’s hair to get rid of the adorable pout that was seriously making him want to push the young man down on the bed and have his way with him.

 

“You do codding for our company every now and then.” He recognized the spark of curiosity that appeared in Q’s eyes and distracted him from his questions with a kiss on the neck. “Let’s go look at computers,” he offered afterwards and Q was gone from his arms in a flash, giddy with excitement.

 

They didn’t buy anything, although James had assured Q that they had more than enough money to buy out the entire shop at least one hundred times and still be left with enough to live out the rest of their days in a castle filled to the brim with servants, on a private island, and eating the most expensive things that were delivered to them via helicopters. But Q refused, more interested in listening to the boy explain how the computers worked – James tipped the man more than enough for his trouble.

 

Later that night, he send R the file and the woman ended up ranting for an entire hour about how wonderful the program part was and was he really sure that Q had stopped there? Was James really set on keeping the two of them from talking? Couldn’t she talk with him right then for just ten minutes?

 

“As if I am going to wake up my husband so you can make him sad when you ask him things he can’t possibly know the answer to in his state.” He only realized that he had referred to Q as his husband for real when Eve took the phone from R and started to ask if he was still claiming that he wasn’t emotionally compromised.

 

“ _You’ll make mistakes—”_

 

“I will do no such thing. I am a decent agent and I will not let anything happen to him,” James interrupted her, raising his voice and causing Q to start stirring by his side. “You’re dreaming love, go back to sleep,” he uttered in Q’s ear, kissing it. “Good night, Eve.”

 

“ _Bond—_ ”

 

Q woke up in the mood for a spy movie and, by pure luck, a high budget one had just been released so James took him to it. He had absolutely no interest in it and spent all of it trying to get Q to make out with him and keeping the people from around them to not disturb Q from his amusing angry and offended rants. But yes, he agreed that the science part of the movie seemed beyond ridiculous, despite the fact that he knew Q had at least five blueprints for a car that turned into an airplane and a submarine hidden away in a box in the back of his office.

 

“Love, it’s just a simple movie,” he whispered sweetly, pushing popcorn in Q’s mouth and shivering when the man’s tongue accidentally brushed against the tip of his fingers. “They never get things right. I mean just look at the one who is supposed to be the spy. In his desperate attempt to blend in, he stands out like a sore thumb.” Yes, yes, he needed to focus on the thing in the movie that annoyed him and not on his pants becoming uncomfortably tight.

 

Q spent the rest of the movie making all sort of faces that amused James beyond belief. As the credits rolled, he wondered how it would be to watch a spy movie with Q after he’d get his memories back, biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing out loud when he pictured the young man somehow hijacking the projector to show everyone where mistakes were made.

 

“If I never see this movie again for as long as I live, it will be too soon,” Q declared out loud, sighing when James squeezed his hand. “Can you get a refund? I feel like you’ve been robbed.”

 

James laughed, pulling Q back by his side. “Love, I am pretty sure that no one is going to give us our money back after we sat through the entire movie.” He kissed his temple and was pleasantly surprised when Q pulled him back for an actual kiss, uncaring that they were blocking the entrance. “I’ll take you to a movie I know you absolutely love soon, I promise.”

 

Q smiled and, glancing at the movie one last time, they left.

 

That night, he tried to get into the compound and ended up with a ruined suit for all his trouble, but at least he didn’t get an actual injury – if you didn’t count his bruised ego – and R informed him rather smugly that she had, in fact, managed to get someone to infiltrate the SPECTRE building.

 

“ _Not a double oh agent per se—._ ”

 

That was anything but good news. “You go tell Eve what you just told me, R, and be sure that after Q is done banning me from his life after this, he will turn his attention on you for doing this,” he growled, massaging his temple. “Does M know about this?” It took her more than a second to reply, so he already knew. “Make sure you send me a picture of the man so I don’t accidentally kill him.”

 

He tried to go to sleep in a foul mood, but Q rolled on top of him and nuzzled his neck and made that impossible for him.

 

The next thing that nudged Q’s memory ended up being a model of the Aston Martin that James had drove off into the sunset with Madeleine. He stared at it for a few good minutes, pacing up and down in front of the shop’s window. Against James’ all hopes, the young man ended up buying it and practically dragged him back to the hotel room so he could start working on it.

 

He had offered to help Q, but the young man turned him down and he was doing pretty well on his own until he lifted the half-finished model up to show it to James and he dropped it, an important piece breaking beyond repair.

 

“Don’t worry; I’ll go buy you another model, don’t worry,” James said, pulling his jacket on and ruffling his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

He must have set a world record, because he had returned in less than twenty minutes, Q helping him sit down on a chair and giving him a glass of water, waiting to hear that he was okay before he forgot the world around him for a second time that day in favour of the car model.

 

Now James was a jealous man by nature and he easily admitted that. And yes, he was petty enough to be jealous of a toy – not that kind of toy and his brain would do best to cease conjuring such images of Q. But his jealousy was also mixed with fear; fear that Q would remember him walking away and leaving him behind and that was the one if the two things that James actually _prayed_ that he never remembered – the other being the torture he went through.

 

“You know, I am good at reading instructions,” James whispered, sneaking his hands down Q’s back. “And on gluing and cutting things, so feel free to order me to help you. You are the only person who I don’t mind using me for whatever nefarious plans you have.” He was actually close to insisting that he be used for those kinds of plans.

 

Q chuckled and exposed more of his neck, James mentally kicking himself to hold back from running his tongue on it. But it was so milky white and inviting, the smooth skin taunting James to leave behind a mark on it for the world to see that Q was his. Oh and the surprised gasp he would probably draw from Q when he did that would give into a maddening moan and—

 

“I think I worked on a car like this on my own in the past. If I finish it, despite this one being infinitely smaller than the one I have in my mind, I might remember.” Those words worked better than a cold shower. He’d have to remember them the next time his pants became tight.

 

Again, he was happy that Q was remembering things and every time he started to describe something from their past made him feel like he was on top of the world, but did he really have to remember _that_? Was it detrimental to his health if that major incident was permanently deleted from his mind?

 

He pulled away, his mouth dry and his conscience screaming in his ear. “You are working on the model of a car I won at a poker game and which I totalled not even a year after that.” He quickly looked at Q, greeted by the panic that he had been sure he’d find in his eyes. “Nothing serious happened, love. I got out of it without even so much as a scratch.”

 

“You said you totalled the car, James. How can you—”

 

James put a finger on Q’s lips and slowly shook his head, chuckling. “I am a very lucky man, as proven by my darling husband that’s worrying for a second time when he needn’t.” He grinned when he saw the light pink colour that had spread to the tips of Q’s ear. “I found out you were working on fixing it much later, when it was practically four tires away from being complete.”

 

Q winced and James watched nervously as he struggled to remember. “You asked me to give it to you and—”

 

No, no, James had to stop him from remembering. He turned him in his arms, frowning deeply as he struggled to come up with something to distract Q from that memory. “That doesn’t matter now and I promise that I brought it back in one piece.” He pulled him to his chest and rested his chin on top of his head to keep him from seeing how murderous he looked. “Let me help you with the model now, okay?” He hadn’t helped Q when he undoubtedly worked on the actual car until night gave way to day and this did not wash him of his blame, but it might help a little.

 

He would have helped Q even then, before he knew what he really felt for the young Quartermaster, if only the man had trusted him to lend him a hand. He was metaphorically blind, not heartless.

 

After that, just in case Q remembered more parts of him leaving him, James had been more careful with him. He clung more to him, hugged him tighter, and kissed him longer, just to be sure that it was clear to Q that he was there to stay. The only person he planned on driving off into the sunset was him and no one else. Saying it would have been so much easier, but James found those words stuck in his throat, so he just kept on being a bit more attentive.

 

He made sure not to go too far with his physical attention just in case Q thought he was being pressured into something he didn’t feel like he was ready to do. And again, because they did not actually talk about it – like Madeleine told me every time they met – it bit him in the ass in one of the worst ways possible.

 

They were visiting yet another museum. He found them dull and repetitive, but Q loved them, so he just pretended to be interested in what they were looking at – although if Q suddenly started to explain a painting or a statue, he was genuinely interested in what he had to say and like that piece of art a bit more than the others.

 

But since Q had yet to say anything about any of the paintings they were currently viewing, James just sort of pretended to study them while thinking of how he was supposed to deal with the nest of hornets so close to them.

 

R’s man on the inside reported to her twice a day – which was very risky in James’ opinion – and although they still didn’t know who the ran that show, they knew that the mastermind was indeed in the compound and that their patience was running thin. Men were being sent to check out hospitals every day and M ended up being forced to reach out to the German government and plead with them to issue out gag orders to the two hospitals Q had been checked in.

 

But someone will always speak if the threat was too close to home or the check too big to refuse and SPECTRE _knew_ where Q had been and that James Bond was involved. With that in mind, R had informed James that M had unofficially ordered him to—

 

Q let out an almost shaky breath with completely derailed James’ train of thought and he led the man to a bench, hoping that his silent suffering was due to him simply being. “Is it your feet? Do they hurt you? Maybe we should have stopped after the third museum.”

 

“James, do you find me repulsive?”

 

James almost dropped the bottle of water due to how shocked he’d been when he heard that question.

 

Whoever said the only sticks and stones hurt, but never words, clearly had never been asked by their adored one something like this. Those six little words made him feel like he had been punched in the heart by a bloody wrecking ball with spikes that had been dipped in corrosive acid mixed with stonefish venom and anything from the manchineel tree.

 

“I find you anything but that, love.” He carefully cupped Q’s face and titled his head back a little, holding him in a position similar to the painting they were supposedly looking at. “I love every bit of you and nothing would bring me greater joy than to show you that by worshiping you twenty-four seven. And I will, as soon as you stop flinching when my hand goes lower than your back or tense up whenever I slip in our bed.”

He knew just the thing to do to help Q get rid of his insecurities and that had nothing with them sleeping together, but since they were in public and he didn’t want to be arrested for indecent exposure - because he wanted to spare Q the stress he’d go through while bailing out and because he didn’t want to give SPECTRE the perfect opportunity to kidnap him again, not because he actually cared about ending up in the slammer for that again - he waited until they were in the privacy of their hotel room.

 

Q was surprised when he started undressing in front of him, his cheeks turning red when he finally saw James without a shirt. And that was when it dawned on James that, even as a Quartermaster, Q had given him as much privacy as he could. Not because he was acting shy right now or anything like that, but because he never felt like he was being watched when he was on honeypot missions. Q also always turned with his back to him when they were forced to talk while James was changing and always asked if he was decent before he entered his room when he was in medical.

 

He took a step closer to Q when he was topless and pushed his chest in front, the blushing man understand without words what he was supposed to do. Ever so slowly he reached out a hand and carefully touched the start of a scar. He pulled back almost instantly, afraid that he had hurt James and glanced up at him to be sure that it was still okay.

 

“They’re healed, love; I can’t feel any sort of pain, just your soft skin,” James whispered and took Q’s hand in his, pushing it against his largest scar which was just a few millimetres away from his heart.

 

As if under a trance, Q touched every one of them, slowly and carefully tracing them with his finger before leaning close and placing butterfly kisses on them. James closed his eyes and shivered, feeling his insides catching on fire in a good way and the pure love Q put behind every skin touch.

 

“I was a commander in the navy and I attracted many a bullet,” he whispered when he sensed that Q was trying to find the proper way to ask. “Seeing the marks they left behind that will never completely disappear, I have to ask: do you find me repulsive?”

 

Q’s eyes widened for a fracture of a second before they filled with utter adoration. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but you are a wonderful husband who I wouldn’t change for anything in the world.”

 

He hadn’t doubted his decision to return to Q. That had been the only thing in his life that he didn’t need to be told twice and he never felt like he needed reassurance of the man’s utter love and devotion for him. But it felt so good to hear him say those words and James placed them in a little box indie his mind and promised himself that he would never forget them and that he would cling to them when Death was close to him during a mission.

 

“Did I just make your ego grow?” Q asked, completely missing due to how James was sitting in bed that he made something else grow, the kiss he placed on his neck not helping in the least.

 

He flipped them over and trapped Q under him, suddenly playful. “You have accused me of having an enormous ego in the past and I never corrected you.” He covered Q’s face in kisses, discovering by accident that he was ticklish and then using it against him just because he loved the way he squeaked and giggled. "And that was one of the reasons why you rarely did more than verbally pat my head, so feel free to continue calling me your wonderful husband.”

 

Because, at one point he won’t, a voice whispered in James’ mind and he froze. When he gets his memory back, even if he’ll say he understands, he will look at James with nothing but hatred and loathing. Because he could have come clean to him about who they both were and what they worked as the second they stepped into their hotel room. But he had to be selfish and–

 

“Just promise me you’ll keep that in mind, okay? And that you would never change me,” James pleaded, silencing that nagging voice in his mind. Q’s soft caresses helped quite a lot with that. Yes, if this could be a therapy just for him and given to him just by Q, he would gladly do it every minute of every day.

 

Retire to have hot sex on the beach every night with a different person? Tempting, but after doing that for so long, he wanted something different. Retire with someone like Madeleine? A nice idea in theory, but in practice, they were missing that special something. Retire to be petted by Q? Just petted and nothing else? Yes, a brilliant idea. He could be Q’s third cat. His favourite cat even and the others couldn’t have him - this was, by far, the strangest dream he ever had, but he wasn’t complaining. At least no one was trying to skin him this time.

 

Q moved next to him and he was instantly awake. He thought that Q would sleepwalk again, but a quick glance at him told him that he was wide awake and really worried about something. Something he didn’t want to talk with James about because he was doing his best to get out from under him without waking him up which was bad news - he still moved a bit to allow Q to leave.

 

The bathroom door closed and he was glued to it, trying to hear what he was mumbling about. Something about a ring, a room and then… And then a loud noise that made his blood turn to ice. “Q? Love, is everything okay in there?” He hit the door so hard that he almost sent it flying off its hinges. “Q, love? Are you in any sort of danger?”

 

Took longer than five seconds to answer. Q was in trouble and the door was in his way. Only possible course of action? Bust down the door, jump on the person who managed to sneak into their room and beat them with an inch of their lives and then string them upside down above the shower to find out who sent them and if they were more.

 

He took three steps back and then pushed forward, shifting all of his force into his right shoulder, only for the door to open a moment before he made contact with it by a clearly shaken Q, much too late for James to stop his attack. But he did manage to wrap his arms around Q and turn them around, spearing him from some of the pain.

 

“James, are you okay?” Q asked, a little whine in his voice and when he pushed himself up, James let out a groan that was his way of agreeing with the universe that he deserved the pain he was feeling. “Sorry; I hope I didn’t break your ribs.”

 

He was much too adorable for words if he really thought he was heavy enough to do that. “No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he wheezed out, trying to blink away the white spots in his eyes. “You may have put on five to seven kilos on, but you are still my harmless stick. Well, as long as you do not have a computer or laptop in front of you because when you do...” It took him a second to realize that Q wanted to help him get up, but he gladly accepted the offered hand.

 

But he quickly realized that Q wasn’t actually trying to help him up. He was checking for something and whatever he found, it made him sad. And that was one of the many things James couldn’t allow, especially since he was sure he was to blame for whatever horrible thing that was crossing Q’s mind

 

He poked Q’s nose to get his attention, pretending not to notice the deep frown. “You are spacing out a lot today, love and you look sad. Sadder than at the museum. Did you have a bad dream?”

 

“Yes, that’s what it was. Just a really horrible dream in which I was being lied to by someone I cared for.” Yeah, there was that metaphorical punch James was waiting for.

 

Q stomped away from him and threw himself into the bed and pulled the covers over his head, James gluing himself to him and racking his brains for something that might pacify the young man.

 

“I wish you could tell me what to do to fix things, like you always do.” He moved the covers a bit to get access to Q’s neck and he started to nuzzle it, thinking that if he had relaxed when one of Q’s demons – in the only show of affection he’d seen from them – started to nuzzle his. And then it hit him. “You’re not really going to be surprised when I tell you that you are my superior at work.”

 

Curiosity always won after whatever Q’s mood was. “Do you aggravate me when we work together?” And there was that little tick of his of nibbling his finger which always prompted Eve to threaten him with chilli pepper pasta.

 

He used the lowering of Q’s shield to make skin contact. “Constantly,” for which he now felt really bad, but in his defence, Q was amusing when he was fuming and James just loved it when he was focused _just_ on him. “You even blamed me for your first white hair.” And he was 100% right. Probably. The old major kept accusing him of the same thing and James was doing his best to keep his interaction with the man to a minimum while with Q he even forced their _accidental_ meetings.

 

“Car,” Q said all of a sudden. “You did something to a car and you scared me.” Okay, James was starting to notice a pattern here. He definitely had a thing for wrecking cars and shame on the MI6 psychiatrists that were thrown at him for not picking up on it. This proved that they were completely useless and they could take their abandonment issues diagnosis and shove it up their asses.

 

Now if only Q would get out of his Quartermaster mode, with the hard, disapproving glare and arms crossed over his chest like armour so James could wrap himself tighter around him so he would be sure that he wouldn’t leave him.

 

“So that last car I fixed for you wasn’t the first one you destroyed and you constantly scare me like that.” Even the tone was his Quartermaster one and it did _things_ to him.

 

It also made him feel ashamed and like the scum of the Earth since Q had finally admitted that he was indeed scared for him in those moments – he always denied that when James teased him, usually from a hospital bed.

 

“I forget that people care for me, so I throw myself headfirst into dangerous situations.” More like the people that said they cared for him were always ripped from the world of the living and he was searching for a faster way to be reunited with them. An incredibly stupid thing to do, he realized now.

 

“We’re married; I think it is safe to assume that you have someone that loves you, you twat.” James finger’s twitched when he saw Q starting to massage his head, but he forced himself to stand still. “Don’t I tell you that I love you? Don’t I show you how much I do?”

 

He did, he constantly did and he had been just too stupid to notice. The care he had when he gave him a check-up, the attention to detail behind each and every little item he customized for him while all the other agents received things that looked mass-produced compared to his, the shaky breath he let out when he heard James’ cocky voice in his ear after a particularly nasty incident in which a man lesser equipped would have died.

 

Everyone was right and now he was surer of that than ever. “I’ve been told that I don’t deserve you and I really don’t. You will remember on your own how incredibly stupid I am. But I am _your_ incredibly stupid man.”

 

They held on to each other and James, exhausted from everything, fell asleep. Not for long, of course, because he was an incredibly light sleeper due to his job – a double oh agent slept like the dead only when he _was_ dead – and Q was still plagued by thoughts which caused to twist and turn like a propeller.

 

He sat still, of course, and paid attention to Q’s every move, happily noting that the man made sure they were still hugging no matter what weird position he tried. It was then that James made a decision, one that he hoped it was the right one despite his horrible track record when it came to them.

 

James willed himself to sleep while Q was still thinking deeply and when he woke up from a dreamless yet restful sleep, the sun was slowly rising above the horizon and Q was using him as a mattress. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He had to finish this today and then come clean to Q and hope for the best.

 

He called Madeleine to his room, the woman not bothering to hide her worry. “Did something happen?” She asked, covering her mouth when James shushed her. “Why do you need me at this hour? And why are you suiting up? James Bond, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

This time, he covered her mouth with his hands and glared at her. “When he wakes up, tell him that I had to do something work related that I couldn’t get out of.” She pinched his side hard and he took his hands away from her mouth. “You’ll be pleased to know that you won’t tell him an actual lie as much as leaving out important details.”

 

“Important details such as you went on your own to fight a mammoth and might get killed because you are an idiot, right?”

 

He ignored her words and held out a letter and two plane tickets. “This is for him. If I am not back by the time the sun starts to set, grab him and leave for London.”

 

“James—”

 

“If you get attacked, grab him and go to London,” James cut her off before she could say anything. I have already spoken to R about this and the second these tickets are checked on a computer, she can make it so that you two are on the next flight to London.”

 

He expected her to slap him and she was flexing her fingers as if she was preparing to do just that, but in the end she just pulled him for a tight hug. “If they ask you to leave your gun on a silver tray, don’t do it this time, okay? You don’t have Q’s gadgets to save you this time.”

 

He brushes his finger against his ring and chuckled, returning the hug. “Take care of my Q and don’t let anyone kidnap either one of you.” This time, he did get slapped and he left the hotel with a burning cheek and a heart the size of a flea.

 

The last time he had felt like this, he was just boarding a ship for his first ever mission and it ended up with a fight against pirates. That’s when he had gotten his first bullet wound and when he saw _his_ M for the first time. He really hoped that this time, things would be different especially since, if he saw M, it meant that he was dead.

 

By now, he knew the way to the forest and through it that he could do it with his eyes closed and even the guard dogs were used to him. The largest of the animals almost rolled his eyes when he saw him, just before he charged at him but this time, James had a tranquilizer with the mutt’s name on it. One by one, the wolves fell asleep and James strolled past them, dumping his now useless gun.

 

When he walked by a tree, his watch started to beep and he realized that there was a security camera somewhere in it. He climbed it and quickly found it, took out his phone, connected to it and ran the program that Q had started and R – together with the other boffins – finished. In a flash, he had granted MI6 as well as himself access to the compound’s security servers and he could freely see what was going on while R worked on causing mayhem.

 

All the guards were busy running around to see why all the alarms were going off, so James only had to deal with one guard on his way in. Which was perfect, because he needed his uniform and badge to move around freely - the shirt was a bit too tight, but he wasn’t going to complain about it, nor was he going to start searching for someone who was just his size.

 

He bumped into the person R had helped infiltrate, growled because he was as young as Q looked and his head was full of stupid stories about all the glory he would get as a double oh and ordered him to sit behind him when the shooting would start. Because it would happen once the tied up guard was found in the closet and he was really tired of having other people’s blood on his hands.

 

It was pretty easy to get to the inner room which set off a large amount of alarms in James’ head and, just as expected, not even a minute later, they were surrounded. James would have loved to follow Madeleine’s advice about not giving up his gun, but the two giants that frisked him kind of made it impossible for him. And this time, they were sure to take his watch, his ring, his phone, even his belt. Which was a shame, because they took every gadget he had.

 

They were led down a long corridor because the big heads behind such a shady organization liked the overly dramatic with their reveal. James knew that there was nothing he could do without getting killed, but the newbie tried to play the hero and ended up with a possible minor contusion and a bullet in his leg for all his troubles.

 

“Must everyone who is even remotely associated to MI6 cause a mess?” A familiar voice came just from in front of them. “Though I am honestly surprised that nothing exploded yet since 007 is involved. Or maybe I should say the former 007?”

 

James was genuinely surprised when Max Denbigh stepped out of the shadows, the right side of his head slightly sunk in. “Shouldn’t you be learning how to drink water through a straw? Or better yet, decomposing in a coffin somewhere in a cemetery?” He didn’t mind the butt of the gun that hit him in the mouth and if they would give him a second to recover, he would come up with even better ones.

 

Max chuckled, touching the damaged side of his head. “Very funny, Mister Bond. Your little Quartermaster insisted on continuing the little C joke MI6 seems to love and said it actually stands for Cretin right before he started screaming in pain.” He suddenly turned serious and sneered at James. “You are all so childish.”

 

He was going to take his time with him before allowing MI6 to cuff him and he was sure that no one would try to stop him anyway. “In all honesty, you are lucky he didn’t call you a cunt, seeing that he has a very colourful language.” He cracked his knuckles. “And, just in case you did not know, that is what you are. A cunt. Or, to be more exact, a careless cretin cunt.”

 

He managed to get a good punch in before the guards descended on him, beating him down and then continuing to hit him with the butts of their guns and heavy boots. And then a gunshot rang, James thinking for a moment that he had been shot and his body was still registering the pain from the beating over a bullet entering his body.

 

“I would appreciate it greatly if you all stepped away from my husband and ceased your assault in him, even if he runs his mouth and fist before checking with his brain,” Q’s dry voice echoed in the room and James' heart stopped.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to make you all wait and thank you so much for the kind words and kudos :)

“James’ a spy and I work with him, don’t I?” Q asked although he did not need the shocked woman to give him an honest reply since he had already found out that answer on the MI6’s severs to which he had the access code embedded in his brain without him realizing it. “And he went and did something stupid because he always does that, didn’t he?” Again, no need for an answer because he _felt_ the man do something stupid.

 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” she said slowly and he rested his hands on his hips, frowning. “But yes, that’s the gist of it.” He glanced at the door and she slammed herself against it. “No, you are not setting a single foot outside of this room unless we are heading to the airport.”

 

This woman couldn’t possible believe that he was going to sit in some cosy hotel while James was driving cars off of cliffs or getting shot at. “Let me repeat that for you in case I somehow stuttered the first time I said it: my husband is a spy and I work with him. My husband is in the field and although I have little to no memory of any of his missions, I am beyond sure that he needs me to get out of this alive.”

 

They glared at each other, stuck in a completely useless standoff. She, Q was sure, was just trying to do what James had asked her while he to follow his instincts. And his instincts told him that unless he was by his husband’s side or in his ear, the man was going to have more bullet holes in him than anyone could patch up.

 

The woman lowered her head and he knew he had won – and he was really happy about that because he really did not want to harm her in any way, nor was he sure he could actually do more than try to drag her away from the door.

 

“But you are not going alone.” She walked to the phone and picked it up. “And I am calling for help because SPECTRE is not the type of organization you can fight by yourself. Even if we going just against one of its tentacles.”

 

It didn’t take too long for Q to figure out where James was going and, after a few painkillers because it felt like his head was exploding and he kept getting flashes of that horrible room and the man from his dream – that switched from looking normal and falling after a fight with another man that Q felt respect for to looking distorted and laughing like a maniac from behind a computer console that _hurt_ – they were heading back to the forest.

 

But it wasn’t just he and Madeleine. They were being accompanied by eight other people that all smiled at Q in a familiar way, asking if he was better now and looking disappointed when he apologized for not remembering them at all. They were familiar and he felt like he could really trust them – not as much as James though – but that was about it.

 

The one he trusted the most was the one Madeleine had a problem with. The man had arrived at the hotel just as they were leaving and when he saw Q, he dropped his bags and made a beeline for him, stopping just in front of him with a huge smile on his face.

 

“I know you,” Q said the instant he felt Madeleine grab his wrist and try to tug him away. “I know him,” he repeated again, this time looking at her. “I don’t know his name, but I know he’s six and I know we can trust him.”

 

The man winked at him and held his hand out. “Alec Trevelyan, 006. Your _sisters_ thought James would need help so the second I returned home, they sent me here.” He was careful when he shook Q’s hand as if him losing his memory somehow turned his bones to glass. “Sorry I took so long to come. After I completed my mission, you allowed me to disappear off the radars until I recovered and I got greedy.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, arms crossed over his chest. “As soon as we get my husband back,” Alec bit his lower lip and grinned like a big idiot, “I will scold you because that has to be something I do.”

 

Alec chuckled and ruffled Q’s hair, hand resting on his back. “Your sisters and your minions also sent a little something since they felt like James would do something stupid and you’d go right after him since, well, you and he are practically connected at the hip.”

 

Blinking slow, Q allowed Alec to guide him to the bathroom, everyone right behind them, Madeleine looking the most displeased out of them all. “Wait, you said something about my minions? I have minions? Isn’t that something villains in old movies have?”

 

Alec chuckled and pushed Q in a stall, pulling out what appeared to be black overalls out of a bag. “You don’t call them that, but that’s what they are. All you have to do is vaguely motion in a direction and they run over there, picking up every object and showing it to you until you nod at one.” He closed the door and Q understood that he was meant to change. “I’m bullet proofing you, if you’re wondering.”

 

Q huffed. “Of course you are.” He threw his clothes over the stall, confident that Alec would pick them up. “The material feels familiar; did I work with it in the past?”

 

“You were trying to turn it into a suit so James, as well as the other agents, returned home with fewer bullet wounds.” He greeted Q with a huge smile, linking their arms together. “We know where darling James is and I am sure that he will waltz in through the front entrance.”

 

Madeleine was practically growing at Alec, clinging to Q’s free arm. “James never mentioned you to me. Talked constantly about Q, but I never heard him say so much as your name.”

 

Q was reminded that the woman was James’ mistress and shrugged her off and slid in the front seat of the car next to which one of his ‘bodyguards’ was waiting. He was going to save James’ ass and then throw the ring right at his head for keeping his affair a secret from him.

 

Alec drove them to the edge of a forest and Q knew where they were. He jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped and ran alongside of the road until he reached a zone that _felt_ familiar. Alec was right behind him, Madeleine not that far behind them.

 

“Let me go first, Q,” Alec said, grabbing his arm just in time to stop him from falling down a ditch that he remembered just then. “That’s how things work in the field: agent first, beloved Quartermaster that’s too precious for this world behind the agent until said agent gets gunned down.”

 

Q’s eyes widened and squeezed Alec’s arm. “If anyone guns down my James, I am going to erase them from existence.” His eyes landed on a rock and he looked at his arms. He had stumbled not too long ago and scrapped them on it and if his memory was finally starting to be on his side, fifteen minutes to the left of the rock should be a cave hidden behind by thick bushes that had sharp thorns.

 

“My God, what’s that horrible smell?” Madeleine asked, covering her nose and taking a step back.

 

“Moss,” Q said shortly. “There were dogs chasing me, but I dodged in there and the smell confused them.” He shivered remembering how cold he had been and Alec threw his jacket over his shoulders, starting to rub his arms. “Don’t even try to send me back to the car, 006.”

 

Alec seemed surprised – as Q was – at how hard those words sounded and he lifted his arms in a pacifying manner and took a step back. “I wasn’t thinking about doing that, Quartermaster. But, since your brought this up—”

 

“Alec, no,” Q said shortly and the man clicked his tongue before nodding.

 

They soon saw the fence and they tightened up the ranks, Q in the middle with Alec holding one hand on the back of his neck in case someone started shooting – the fatal flaw in the overalls Q was wearing, in everyone’s opinion, was that it did not protect his head – a gun with the safety off in his other hand. In fact, everyone but he and Madeleine had guns. But, despite all the commotion and the alarms they were hearing, no one was coming for them.

 

“Someone must have—”

 

“It’s Bond. Bond did something and they’re either searching for him or capturing him as we speak,” Q interrupted Alec, biting his lower lip. He had to get his emotions under control and focus at the task at hand. He couldn’t allow for himself or anyone else to get injured, hurt or worse.

 

“Even if that is the case,” Madeleine started, squeezing his shoulder, “James is though and he has managed to escape from tighter spots than this one.” She smiled reassuringly at him and although Q understood that she was doing her best to be supportive – and she didn’t seem fake in doing so – he still couldn’t stop himself from hating her a bit.

 

Alec was eyeing the main entrance, looking like he was counting how many cameras there were on it and trying to come up with a plan to get in without being seen and despite the voice in Q’s mind that was screaming at him to simply charge, he insisted they look around a bit more. He couldn’t have escaped through the main door; the place seemed much too well-guarded for something like that to happen.

 

“But if we find nothing in the next five minutes, we go that round,” Q muttered and Alec pulled him into a tight hug, patting his back hard enough to almost send him into the ground. What happened to the man who was afraid to give him a proper handshake not two hours ago? He suddenly missed him, especially since parts of his body still hurt from getting out of this place.

 

For five minutes, they silently moved along the wall, the agents taking out the men that might spot them, shooting them in such a way that they landed outside the compound. Some of them took their clothes and Q found himself thinking that it was a good idea and feeling pleased at how good they were in the field instead of disgusted.

 

They found what Q was looking for just as he was about to give up and try to climb over – since he didn’t want to waste ten minutes again – and Alec worked the normal lock while Q found himself buttoning a little device that was connected to the numeric keypad in the wall. To his surprise, it was he that got the door open and not Alec and Alec looked at him with so much pride in his eyes that he couldn’t help but blush.

 

The men that were with them quickly ran in and Alec turned Q with his back at what was happening, Madeleine placing herself behind him just to be sure. “If this had been a normal door,” Alec started, hands on his shoulders to keep him still, “I wouldn’t have had any problem opening it first. Even James is jealous on my lock picking skills. But you are a magician when it comes to anything and everything technologic and I am happy to see that your little memory problem hasn’t affected that.”

 

He managed to get a single glance at the dead guards when Alec finally dragged him in and he still couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad for them. They were enemies; just doing their jobs, yes, but surely by now they knew who they worked for and what the man was doing.

 

Maybe it was better that he felt nothing when their attackers fell to the ground like flies because they seemed to be assaulted by endless waves of them. Every time they advanced, one of Q’s allies had to stay behind, Alec and Madeleine not allowing him to pounder too much or too long on their fate by telling him that James had to be in the next room. And then in the next room and so on until it was his him and the two of them on a long hallway with a door in front of them and one to the side.

 

“I’ll keep these cockroaches busy,” Alec said when new enemies showed up and Q’s heart was suddenly the size of a flea. “You go get your husband and then we’ll all leave here together, okay?”

 

Q nodded and he and Madeleine left Alec behind, but not before the man gave Q a gun. The weapon felt heavy in his hand, but familiar. He remembered smelling gunpowder on his own hands and his arms being pushed back as he squeezed the trigger, feeling really proud of himself for embedding the bullet right in the middle of the target.

 

 _“Well, well, well. It looks like the Quartermaster finally got a good tutor and he can use a gun without causing harm. I think the tutor in question deserves a nice new weapon for all of his effort._ ” James amused voice drifted in Q’s mind and he shook his head to concentrate on the present.

 

Q head grunting and maddened laughter coming from just beyond the door in front of him and he hurried his typing. He had no idea what he was doing and he didn’t actually know what the commands he was typing were doing, but he heard a fire alarm go off somewhere behind them, the lights started to flicker and then finally, the door opened.

 

His eyes landed on the guards that were huddled over James, kicking him over and over again and he pointed his gun at the ceiling and squeezed the trigger before Madeleine could stop him. “I would appreciate it greatly if you all stepped away from my husband and ceased your assault in him, even if he runs his mouth and fist before checking with his brain,” he ordered.

 

He turned the gun to the laughing man and he instantly recognized him as the man that had tortured him. His hands shook a little and he tried to still them, the man’s - he had been called at one point, he remembered that and no one had liked him and called him every bad ‘c’ word in the English language behind his back - chuckle making his trigger finger itch.

 

"Oh my, it seems that I poked something in your head that made you mix your amusing fantasies with reality if you think that man to be your husband,” the disgusting creature said, licking his lips. “You’re not married. You’re a lonely man with two cats and a crush on a man that sleeps with everything that walks on two legs and isn’t covered in fur.”

 

“Q, don’t listen to him,” James growled, pushing himself back up on his feet. “Drop the gun and get out of here,” he wheezed, stumbling. “Madeleine, what are you doing here with him? I told you to keep him _safe_ , not to deliver him right in the wolf’s jaws.”

 

A guard took a step towards James and Q squeezed the trigger. He closed his eyes when he heard the loud bang, cringing when he heard a pained moan followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Since the moans where still going, the must still be alive, he argued and opened his eyes again, gun trained on the insane C.

 

“I told you all to get away from my husband, or did I fucking stutter?” He frowned when the horrible man took a step closer to him, but held his ground.

 

“But this man is not your husband, so technically speaking, my men aren’t disobeying you,” he sing sang, wrapping his arms around his stomach, continuing to laugh as if he wasn’t a bullet away from death. “But I can understand why you wouldn’t believe a single word that rolls off my so called ‘poisonous tongue’.” He slowly pulled out a little remote from his jacket, blowing a kiss in Madeleine’s direction. “Don’t worry love; I think I hate guns even more than you do. But I just love audio recordings.”

 

“Q, I’m begging you not to listen to him,” James shouted again, starting to stumble towards him and Q was so tempted to lower the gun and go help him – he didn’t because the guards were still in the room and he knew they were waiting for him to lower his guard so they could wrestle the gun away from him. “All he does is distorts the truth, love.”

 

“How about we let him decide that?” C snapped back, repeatedly pushing a button on the remote control. “I just changed the batteries in this—ah, there it goes. Enjoy it, Quartermaster.”

 

“ _I don’t care. Q is my mission and no one is going to take him away from me, got it? Plus, he thinks that I am his husband and if he is suddenly taken away from me, I will put up a fight and he will think he’s being kidnapped_. ” James’ voice boomed from the speakers, a wave of nausea washing over Q.

 

"I didn’t mean it like that,” James said quickly. “He’s taking it out of context. Q, please cover your ears and look at me,” he continued to plead.

 

Of course the recording didn’t stop there and C looked beyond ecstatic.

 

_“I need you to send me pictures of his cats. And fake some in which he and I are really close because a husband is supposed to have those on his phone, right? We don’t want him to be suspicious of me now do we? And before I forget, see if you can fake something with us kissing or something.”_

_"I will keep doing my job, you yours and we’ll talk the next time either one of us finds something interesting, okay?”_

 

Q felt was sure he was going to puke. His heart was beating erratically, his muscles actually hurt and he felt like his blood had turned into lead and it was is hard to keep the gun pointed at C especially since the world was suddenly brighter and it was hurting his eyes. His head also hurt so much that he was sure his brain was trying to jump out of his skull.

 

"He’s always used you, you know,” C said sweetly. “Agent 007 always fooled you into giving him so many expensive things while putting your job on the line and now…” he trailed off, giggling and Madeleine was yelling at him to shut up while James had started to beat up the guards, tricking them into shooting each other in his desperation to reach Q. “He played you like a violin and fed your silly little dream of you and he being together and tricked you into giving him his body. Over and over and over again, I bet. I do wonder who enjoyed it more. You or him?”

 

He saw James on that bridge away, Miss Swann by his side. And then later, Q was in his office and James appeared out of nowhere, smile on his face. Of course Q was foolish enough to believe for one second that he had returned for him only for the man to ask him for his car. He had returned for the bloody car to use it as the stallion he was going to ride off with Madeleine into the sunset and Q was that foolish stable boy that was always left behind and forgotten in all the stories.

 

He should be happy for James. The former agent had gone through a lot – something about his childhood home being destroyed, his adoptive brother trying to kill him and the former M dying in his arms as well as his _female_ lover drowning right in front of him – and he was probably living his well-deserved happy ending until the Quartermaster went and got kidnapped.

 

But he really couldn’t help but feel jealous of the woman James had left with. He felt abandoned, although he had no right to feel so. They had been just colleagues and James was clearly more interested in women than men. It was Q with the stupid crush, Q with the stupid dreams of one day sharing the man’s bed, not James; never James.

 

“Shut up,” Q snarled. He needed to keep his emotions in check. This was not the place or the time to have a ‘hissy fit’ that an agent did the only thing that was logical to keep a situation under control even though it hurt him deeply. “We didn’t…That is none of your business.”

 

“And my Nine Eyes was none of yours and yet….” C started to shout, but calmed down a little when he saw that Madeleine was also pointing a gun at him and, unlike Q, she actually had it pointed at his head. “And yet you made it your business,” he whispered. “Therefore, even though I am not in the porn industry, the fact that you and Miss Swann have at least a cock in common is my business.”

 

Q wished so hard that he was lying and it hurt that his brain was coming up with images that proved he was telling the truth. He remembered giving James a car and then another one and another one. He remembered being in front of old people that looked anything but amused at his financial report and M - the new M, his brain insisted - threatening to bench him for a few months if he continued to stuff so much money in 'Bond’s ass’.

 

He had tried to talk with James about it, threatened with giving him nothing but actual toys on his future missions and even pleaded with him to be more careful with what he gave him. The latter must have worked because Bond had started to come back with some of the equipment.

 

“I find it so amusing that I, your enemy, find you to be so special,” the bastard started to speak again, head tilted, “while Bond, who is supposed to be your ally, treated you like you were the most common—”

 

James finally managed to beat the last guard into submission and launched himself at C, but before he could land a punch, Q hit the man with the butt of his gun right in the damaged part of his head. “I have heard quite enough from you, Mister Denbigh, and if you keep running that flap of yours, I will put a bullet right between your eyes just to see if brain matter starts to ooze from your head or not.”

 

James grabbed the gun from Q and buried his nose in his neck, arms tightly wrapped around him just as the doors opened to reveal a bleeding Alec followed by everyone who had helped Q. And Q was hoping that the ground under him would open up and swallow him whole because everyone in that room but him know that he and James were not actually married and yet he carried on and on about 'my husband this’ and 'my husband that’.

 

“Q, you were not just a mission, I promise,” James was whispering, placing little kisses against his neck that calmed Q down despite his best attempts to stay angry. “You said you wouldn’t change me,” he cupped Q’s face and forced him to looking him in the eyes, “you said I was the most wonderful husband—”

 

Q found enough strength in him to push the man away. “Agent Bond, please stop. The mission is over now, this closeness isn’t necessary anymore.” He remembered the ring on his finger and started to struggle to get it off, embarrassed that despite all the commotion that was going on around him – it seemed that Alec had managed to find enough time to call for actual backup, which made Q sigh in relief because that meant everyone _had_ to be alive and mostly unharmed– he still felt eyes that weren’t Bond’s or Madeleine’s on him. “It’s a tracker,” he said suddenly.

 

“Yes, it’s a tracker you made and mine was the same, but—”

 

“You’re not even wearing yours.” Q realized that he shouldn’t feel offended since they weren’t really married, but he couldn’t help it. “You lost it, didn’t you? Because I made it and you always lose the things I give you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose; at least his headache had mostly gone away. A pity he was feeling empty and cold on the inside.

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“I suppose that doesn’t really matter right now,” Q muttered, giving up on trying to take off the ring and stepping away from James just as he was reaching out for him. “Thank you for keeping me safe for so long, agent Bond. I will be sure to write a favourable report,” he said unsure. Did he do that? God, it was so annoying that he only remembered the bits that hurt and not the important ones. He was definitely getting benched for a long time.

 

James sighed exasperated. “Q, I didn’t lose the ring. They took it off,” he growled, turning to glare at one of C’s henchmen. “If you give me five minutes, I’ll find it and put it back on.”

 

Q shook his head. “Just file what you are supposed to file when you lose these things. I still can’t remember everything,” he muttered, pretending that he hadn’t heard anything the man had just said and walked up to Alec, face in hands, glasses pushed on top of his head. “Can you please drive me back to the hotel? Or is anyone here that can take me directly home?”

 

The man hesitated just for a second before throwing his arm around his shoulder, guiding him out of the room and keeping him from seeing any dead bodies. He helped him into a helicopter and got in with him, closing the door just as James came our running from the building.

 

“Tell me, Alec, do I really have adoptive sisters or are they a lie as well?” Q asked in a small voice, feeling his heart drop into his stomach the second they left the ground.

 

Alec had the decency to look apologetic. “In James’ defence, he didn’t really lie about that as much as give them a new title. They act and love you as if they were your sisters.” He tapped the other man that was with them in the helicopter on the shoulder and took his coat, putting it around the shivering Q. “And, to be honest, I don’t think he was lying about anything else.”

 

“We’re not married,” Q said tonelessly, tensing up when the helicopter took a sharp turn. Was it possible that he hated flying? It sure felt like he hated flying.

 

“Not in papers, no.” Alec grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “But, you did act like the caring wife and the way James went on about you, even though at that time he was not aware of it—”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Q interrupted the man. “And I think I will want a psychiatrist the moment we go home to help me with everything, a really strong sleeping pill because I feel that I am about to start screaming if this thing doesn’t land and my cats…” He trailed off, suddenly turning to look at Alec with terrified eyes.

 

“The cats are real,” Alec said quickly, moving closer to Q and starting to rub his back. “They are very real and very mean to anyone who isn’t you or ‘you approved’. They are safe and sound in your branch, loved and worshipped by your minions.”

 

Q made the mistake of glancing out the window just as the helicopter was making another sharp turn and he saw how high they were. Alec was quick to hug him and distract him with stories of what his cats did to him on the many occasions he met them and Q was grateful for trying, but he still wished that it was someone else in his place.

 

***

 

Exactly three months had passed since Max Denbigh joined his former boss in jail. Ninety-one days since Q found out the truth in the most horrible way possible and looked at James with the saddest eyes the agent had ever seen in his life. 2184 hours since Q’s last words to him had something to do with paperwork. 131040 minutes – and yes, he kept count and did the math over and over again when the urge to ignore the unofficial restraining order he’d been presented by R and everyone else in MI6 –since he touched the man and God knows how many seconds since he’d received a smile from him.

 

Oh, he tried to see the man, unofficial restraining order be damned. But somehow, as if overnight, every bloody boffin, assistant, nurse, doctor, and kitchen lady had learned how to be actual spies and foiled his attempts.

 

“The Quartermaster isn’t here now and even if he was, he wouldn’t have the time or the patience required to deal with you,” some would say, flinching when James turned his cold eyes on them, but still holding their ground. M always showed up a second later and ordered him in another section of the building.

 

R was more aggressive and if she had a wrench in her hand or actually anything, James was really careful around her. “Q didn’t say that he doesn’t want to see you, but as his adoptive sister according to you, I _know_ he doesn’t want to see you.”

 

Not that Eve was nicer to him when it came to Q. “If I catch you near Q’s building,” because of course the man would end up getting a building, “I will replace your current medical file with the one you had after Istanbul.” But she still had a soft spot for him and her hard stare became just a tad softer when she saw how distraught he was. “Give him time and space; he feels humiliated on top of everything else.”

 

He didn’t quite understand why Q felt humiliated until he caught two new employees from accounting snickering near a water cooler in the main MI6 building about how the Quartermaster, ‘a teenage boy who had to be fresh out of college’ had ‘gone bonkers’ and ‘actually thought _the_ James Bond could be interested in him for longer than a night’ – their exact words.

 

“I’m sorry, were you badmouthing my husband?” James growled, stepping out of the shadows just in time to make the two men choke. “Or are you going to imply that me, _the_ James Bond, is so old compared to the Quartermaster, that my hearing is almost gone?”

 

There was no right answer and the two unfortunate and misguided accountants knew that. James was simply giving the two the option to sort of choose how harsh their punishment would be. Not that M allowed him to really time them up and hang them by their toes right in the middle of Q’s favourite testing laboratory, vases of flowers right under them.

 

They were saved by M who just so happened to walk by. “Tell me I do not have to explain to you why you are not allowed to do that, 007. Tell me that or just walk yourself directly to Medical and request nicely for them to scan your head in search for a brain.”

 

Since he had just gotten his licence back and since Q would probably be more upset and freaked by the ‘offering’ than impressed and pleased, he assured M that he was simply joking. But M was sceptic and, since he had referred to the Quartermaster as his husband, it was decided that James needed a good talk with a psychiatrist.

 

He went because, again, if he didn’t have a clean bill of health, he risked going back to being nothing more than a civilian and all of his chances of talking with Q and apologizing for leaving him staring at his back that one time was his biggest mistake and that he did return his feelings – if Q still had them, that was – would go down the drain.

 

“Now, Mister Bond, are you sure we’re both on the same page about your real relationship with the Quartermaster?” The man asked in the most boring voice and James had to wonder if psychiatrists were even allowed to sound so dead.

 

“Yes; there is only a work relationship between me and Q and I am aware that we aren’t married and that we’ve never been married,” James said for the tenth time that hour. “At this point in time we are, at best, acquaintances.”

 

“Mister Bond, the way you just worded your reply implies that you are planning on changing the status of your relationship in the future.” Oh goody; the man wasn’t brain dead even though he sounded like he was. He had heard robotic voices with more personality than this man.

 

“If the Quartermaster wishes to do so, yes. If he does not, then I will back away and only interact with him when there is no other choice,” he answered honestly.

 

The psychiatrist hummed in that annoying way they all did when he answered in a certain way and then they moved on to word association. Again.

 

The only person that sort of didn’t hold his actions against him was Alec. Although the man was still pissed that he had quit MI6, almost got married to someone who he had only known for a total of two days – Really, James, the psychiatrist should take a look at the part of your brain that thinks its heads over heels over a stranger after just 48 hours, but needs God knows how much to realize it has a thing for our lovely Quartermaster – and that he hadn’t bothered to let him know.

 

Except James had left a letter for him for when he returned with Q. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably an even bigger slap in the young man’s face. He had returned to take a car Q wasn’t really supposed to give him after he had completely trashed another one and leave a note for his friend, but he did not have a single kind parting word for the person who always did everything in his power to keep him alive and safe.

 

“I think the proper word to describe you, my friend, is scum,” Alec had been more than happy to offer alongside a harsh glare. “Didn’t you give him anything as thanks for doing so much?”

 

James groaned and let his head fall against the dirty bar counter. “A bottle of champagne for the first car I stole.”

 

Alec smacked him upside the head. “Vy ogromnyy mudak, James. I mean the man doesn’t even like alcohol. Unless that bottle was filled with gold or memory cards that were full with apology letters, I hope he plans to shake it really good and then shove it up your ass.”

 

“For that to happen, he’d have to agree to see me first,” James grumbled, elbowing Alec in the groin to get him to stop treating his head like a drum. “And suggestions?”

 

“Give him space and time,” Alec said honestly and seriously. “He’s very stressed about the very real possibility of losing his job and if you start buzzing around him, proclaiming your undying love, he might just take M up on his offer and retire. And if he does that, we both know that no one will find him unless he wants to be found.”

 

Those words were strong enough to chase away the pleasant haze that had settled around James’ mind with the help of alcohol. “M offered him what?”

 

Alec took a swing of his beer bottle, glancing at James. “Just what everyone with a fully functioning brain wants in MI6: a chance to retire early and live out the rest of his life doing whatever he wants. Q said something about MI6 paying top money for whatever useful thing he invents on top of his pension. Personally, I hope he takes it since MI6 has the tendency to _devour_ people’s hearts, minds, and souls. Q still has a chance at a normal life; or as normal as a genius can have.”

 

Rare as it was, when Alec had a point, he had a damned good one. But James still wanted to talk to him and actually apologize for everything he did without realizing. “A stupid question, but I still have to ask it: why doesn’t he want to see me?”

 

“About that…” Alec started, clearing his throat, “He didn’t specifically say that, most of everyone just assumed he didn’t want to see you. He actually doesn’t even mention you or your designated number and we all just try to avoid the ‘you’ subject.” He was slowly starting the push out of James’ reach all the objects on the table that could be used as a weapon against him. “Now James, you mustn’t lose your temper.”

 

He pulled Alec back down by the back of his shirt, shaking his head. “I am not going to lose my temper, Alec. I’d assume the same thing if I were in your shoes.” He threw his arm around Alec’s neck and started to squeeze. “But you will help me with something, right? Just one tiny little thing so we’d be even, okay?”

 

Struggling to get air back in his lungs, Alec nodded. “Anything within reason,” which is something James never thought he’d hear his slightly deranged best friend say, but he agreed.

 

Four months after he had personally seen Q, James walked in the museum where they had met for the first time. He was feeling nervous and he was torn between liking this feeling he hadn’t felt in years and hating it because it reminded him what fear was. Well, maybe hating it because he kept tugging on his cuffs and running a hand through his hair every time he caught his reflection somewhere, thinking that his hair looked wrong – and even seeing about twenty-three white hairs which totally weren’t there the day before.

 

He was just searching for another reflective surface to make sure that he hadn’t suddenly lost a large portion of his hair when the lone thing figure with messy, brown hair sitting on the sofa in front of the ‘The Fighting Temeraire’ knocked the air from his lungs.

 

Well, it was now or never. He took a deep breath, sat down next to the man before his legs decided to listen to his brain – who was working against his heart right now because it was screaming that this was a horrible idea and that he should actually run away – and started reciting the lines he had practically drilled in his mind.

 

“It always makes me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old war ship, being ignominiously haunted away to scrap... The inevitability of time, don't you think? What do you see?” He was so tempted to pull the little piece of paper from his pocket to be sure that he had said it right.

 

Q slowly turned his head, his eyes widening, glasses slipping a bit down his nose. “Not double oh six,” he whispered before shaking his head. “I think I got something wrong, double oh seven, so please excuse me.”

 

He got up and made to leave, but James was faster and caught his arm, holding him in place. “I asked Alec to set this thing up.” He tugged gently on Q’s arm until the man’s shoulders sagged and he sighed defeated, sitting back down next to James. “In his defence, when I say ‘asked’ I actually mean ‘blackmail’.”

 

“007—”

 

“ _Please_ call me ‘James’,” he interrupted, winking at Q. “I think I never heard anyone but you make my name sound so good.” He might as well turn up the charm to full intensity. If he was going to get show down, then he will go down in style.

 

Q lips parted a bit, cheeks slightly more coloured than before. “In that case, James,” he looked away when the man started to smile, “I am unable to provide you with any sort of actual help at this moment in time. Truth is I am Quartermaster just in title and nothing else. Anything and everything I access or try to sign out has to be approved by R and M themselves or the entire shift of my branch that is present there at the time I try to do those things.”

 

Of course Q would think he wanted something mission-related for him. But at least they were talking. “No, you got it wrong, Q. I want nothing related to MI6 from you.”

 

Q’s lips that James knew tasted divine formed a little ‘o’. “Then, how can I help you, double—I mean James?”

 

James turned to look at the painting. “When we first met, it was in front of this painting.”

 

“Yes, that is something I remember,” Q said, allowing a small smile to spread on his lips. “I used it as a metaphor for the state you were in at that time and you caught on.”

 

“You gave me a little box that day,” James continued, using his free hand to start searching the inside of his jacket, “and I wanted to meet you here to give you one in return.” He pulled out a little box and put it in Q’s hands.

 

“A little small to hold that gun you claim something ate it. But I’d be satisfied if I saw just the trigger back from the first ever weapon I built with my own hands,” Q mumbled, hesitating just for a second to open the box. “And it’s a ring.”

 

James waited for Q to take it out, but it seemed that the man’s brain had frozen, so he pulled it out for him. “It’s not a tracker or a proposal, since the latter would freak you out more than anything and I need to make those little white lies I fed you delayed memories.”

 

Q threw him a look, but still took out the ring and James felt relieved when it didn’t end up thrown at his head. “You don’t have to do this, James. What I feel…” Q sighed and liked his lips, frowning. “I am not upset with _you_ for letting me believe you were my husband. I would never cause you or anyone else I work with or for harm out of something as disgusting as spite. I am not Oberhauser.”

 

Could he do one thing that wasn’t interpreted wrong by Q? “No, that ring is not a bribe either; it’s a promise.” He took it from Q and grabbed his right hand, slipping it on his finger. “I bought it for you before I left for the SPECTRE base that day as I planned on telling you everything as soon as you were safe and asking you if you were still interested in a pursuing a relationship with me.”

 

Q stared at his hand for a long time and James sat as still as he could, practically hearing the little wheels in Q’s head turning as he processed what he had been told. In truth, James was preparing to be rejected and to have the ring showed down his throat.

 

“You are getting soft in your old age, James,” Q said slowly. “And very sappy,” he added with more life in his voice. “Are you like this with all your conquests or am I special?”

 

“You are _very_ special, love. And you are not just a conquest.”

 

Q looked down at the ring on his finger, pursing his lips and James couldn’t help stop the panic that spread through his body when that happened. “Are you sure—”

 

“Very sure. In fact, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” He cupped Q’s face, but kissed his forehead. “I meant every single word that I told you when we were in Germany.”

 

Q hummed and scooted closer to James, the man instantly putting his arm around him. They didn’t say anything else after that and simply enjoyed each other’s warmth. They left hand in hand when one of the guards awkwardly informed them that the museum was closing, Q looking very surprised when his eyes landed on the Aston Martin DB5 that was in pristine condition.

 

“It’s not even scratched,” he whispered and moved away from James to run his hands on it. “I simply can’t believe my eyes and no one is going to believe me when I tell them that agent Bond, destroyer of all types of vehicles, actually brought back one without a single dent or bullet hole in it.”

 

James pushed Q into the car before the man could start taking pictures of it and send them to R because he just knew that an army of boffins would suddenly surround them to check this apparent miracle for themselves and ruin their night.

 

“You fixed this car for me, love,” James said as soon as he buckled up. “Of course I’d be extra careful with it, despite what happened to its predecessor slash successor. I might have also planned on driving right in the middle of Q branch and whisk you away on a date, but when I returned you were… missing.”

 

Q looked surprised at him. “You came back before you found out I was missing?”

 

“Yes, didn’t anyone…” James trailed off and groaned. He forgot that he had been labelled as a taboo subject when Q was in the room. Leave it to MI6 to make matters worse while trying to make them better. “It took me a bit to realize what I truly felt and Madeleine was very understanding when I told her.”

 

“She went for your balls, didn’t she?” Q asked in a deadpan voice and James nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Вы огромный мудак • (Vy ogromnyy mudak) – You are a huge asshole 
> 
> I love Alec too much not to have him appear at least as James' wingman.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this story until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love~


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